


John Doe

by slowburn0117



Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: AU, Action, Drama, F/M, Mystery, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-07-14 10:45:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7167950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slowburn0117/pseuds/slowburn0117
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - What if Jane and Kurt's roles were reversed?</p><p>SSA Taylor Shaw is one of the best field agents the New York office has. But the loss of her childhood friend when she was six years old has both haunted her and driven her for her whole life. When a man, covered in tattoos shows up with her name and badge number, her world gets shaken. As they uncover more and more sinister plots, revealed by the tattoos, Taylor begins to question everything she has ever known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolog

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer - I do not own, nor am the creator of anything that has to do with the ongoing show 'Blindspot'. I just thought it would be interesting to see how things would have been if the roles where reversed.

Prolog

"Taylor!" The hauntingly familiar voice called out to her. She looked up with her six year old eyes to see him. Kurt Weller, age eight, climbing her family apple tree. He was laughing and taunting her as she tried to catch up with him. His laughter echoed in her ears. It then as she got close too him, the branch he was sitting on broke and she felt his shirt slip through her fingers as she reached out for him. His scream made her ears ring.

"Kurt!" Her voice sounded like a mix between her child voice and adult one. She scrambled down the tree, feeling the bark scraping at her exposed skin. When she reached the ground, she was an adult and unlike what really happened, she found Kurt's body. Bloody and broken, starring at her with an accusation. 

"Why Taylor?" His voice was angry. "Why can't you find me?" Taylor Shaw sat bolt up in bed, covered in a cold sweat as she wrenched herself from the nightmare. Her sheets were twisted around her legs, her loose tank top stuck to her muscled body. She glanced at her clock and barely contained the curse when the green numbers showed 0330. 

Taylor let out a frustrated sigh, knowing she wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep. She kicked off the sheet and got out of bed. She stripped off her sweat covered shirt and pulled on her double layered exercise bra, intent on going to the gym. Might as well get a good workout from being awake this early. 

***  
The patrol officer for the New York Police Department carefully approached the abnormally large duffel bag that no one would claim. His shaking hand reached out for the neon red tag that had 'Hello" written in six languages. He gingerly turned the tag over. 'CALL FBI' was written in big black, bold letters. 

"Oh shit," the officer said, carefully clicking off his radio.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One

The Tango was pacing the floor above them like a caged, deranged animal. Reade was looking up with a heat sensor. They had been able to get in without raising any alarms but the fucker was upstairs with his victims. The stairs, well, they were a problem.

"I count five signatures." Reade whispered. The floor boards above them creaked as the Tango continued to pace. His agitation making one of the heat signatures wail in fear. Taylor gritted her teeth when they heard the baby.

"Shut that thing up!!" His voice was high pitched and full of paranoia.

"Stairs are too risky, vics could get caught in the cross fire." Zapata whispered. But the gears in Taylor's head were already turning as she watched the heat signature pacing the same stretch of floor. Taylor's leaf green eyes looked at Zapata, a spark of amusement in them.

"Still got those floor charges?" Confusion flitted across both of her team's face but Zapata handed her the charges. "Okay, here is how this is going to go?"

***  
The Tango was starting to loose it. That thing's wailing was like sand paper in his skull. If that bitch didn't shut it up soon, he was going to stomp it's head in. Didn't matter that it was his. He shouldn't have snorted all that coke, he thought ideally as he paced back and forth in the hallway. Massaging his temples with one hand and the tip of the gun with the other. The thing's wail got louder and he finally turned toward the bitch stomping at her when an explosion rocked the house and the floor gave out underneath him. He heard a sicken crack as he landed.

***  
Taylor kicked the gun out of his hand and shoved his face into the ground.

"Ow you bitch! I think my leg is broken!" He shouted at her. Taylor snarled at him as she wrenched his hands behind his back, cuffing him.

"Go ahead, give me a reason to break more." Her voice was frosty as she placed her gun on the back of his neck. Zapata came down the stairs with the victims, as EMS rushed in to check them out. Taylor canted her head to the side as she heard a helicopter in coming. She looked at Reade but he shrugged, shaking his head. 

"Get this asshole out of here," she growled as she holstered her weapon and headed outside just in time to see an FBI helicopter touching down in the large front yard.

"Agent Shaw?" called out the agent that was climbing out. Taylor gave a slight nod of her head. "You and your team are needed back in New York, now." She frowned, her brows drawing down in confusion.

"Why?" she asked as Zapata and Reade came up behind her. The agent looked uncomfortable.

"There was an ... incident in Time Square. Come on." He turned and climbed back into the chopper, she and her team followed, sensing they weren't going to get anymore answers from him.

***  
"What do you know about PKM-zeta inhibitor, commonly known as Z.I.P.?" Dr. Bordon, the resident doctor asked them. Taylor frowned, she was a federal agent not someone in medicine.

"Doctor, you and I have a very different definitions of 'common'." Deputy Director Mayfair replied, her normal amount of sarcasm dripped from the words.

"Zeta Interacting Protein. It is an experimental drug. It is being studied in people who are suffering from PTSD, rape survivors or soldiers who have been awful battles. Used wisely and in small amounts, it can erase those traumatic memories." Bordon explained.

"So you found traces in John Doe's blood?" Taylor ventured a guess. Hoping that this impromptu medical lesson had a point.

"No, not traces. His entire system was flooded with it." Taylor's eyes went wide as she glanced at the slowly rotating molecule on the screen. "He doesn't remember anything before climbing out of the bag. Not his name, his age, where he is from. Nothing before Time Square."

"What does this have to do with me?" Taylor was getting very impatient. Not that this wasn't interesting. Mayfair and Bordon exchange a look that Taylor couldn't interpret.

"Follow me." Mayfair said and turned on her three inch heels. Taylor raised a single eyebrow but followed. They stopped at an exam room door. Taylor looked through the glass and found a large man, about 6 feet tall and very well muscled. If she had to guess, she would put him at 250 or more. His face was striking, high cheek bone and his chin was dusted in dark hairs. His own hair was cropped close but not quite the military high and tight. His blue eyes looked dazed and still slightly fogged over with the Z.I.P.

"I don't recognize him." She said, looking at Mayfair. Who knocked on the door. The two agents inside stood John Doe up and turned his back to them. They peeled back the hospital gown and what they revealed made Taylor gasp. Her hand flew to her mouth.

"Then why is your name and badge number tattooed on his back?" Mayfair asked. Taylor thought that was a good fucking question. She looked over the extensive tattoos that covered nearly every inch of his skin, up to his hauntingly familiar eyes that looked over his shoulder at her.

***  
Taylor watched as they escorted John to the lab. Patterson, the curvy analyst looked to her for direction. The poor man looked bewildered as he passed them but his eyes met hers. She supposed it was because she was one of the first faces he saw as he was coming out of the drugged state

"I want a complete work up, Patterson. Scanned, dental, finger prints, blood work, all of it. Find out why the hell my name is tattooed on him. Reade, go through my old cases and see if anything pops. Zapata, run his prints and face through every data base we have. I will go over the bag and my old case notes. If he is connected to me, we need to find it." The team broke apart as Taylor sank into her chair. She looked at the nondescript, very large grey duffel bag in the evidence bag. She snapped on her black evidence gloves and carefully pulled it out, laying it across her desk. She looked at the dusted neon red tag. She felt the twing of an on coming migraine and closed her eyes tight. This was just the beginning and she knew it.

***  
"All of John's tattoos. Well, they are all new. Every single one." Patterson announced as she pulled up the scans her team had finished.

"What?" Taylor and Mayfair echoed. Taylor had a few tattoos of her own but she couldn't imagine getting all of that done at once. He must be aching.

"How new?" Mayfair asked.

"A few weeks, judging by how much they have healed." Patterson supplied. Taylor walked closer to the screen where Patterson had displayed all of the tattoos.

"Why?" Taylor asked, her fingers itching to reach out and trace some of the tattoos. 

"I ... I have no idea." Patterson said. Taylor looked up at her last name and badge number, tattooed right in between his shoulder blades. SHAW 44131 FBI, was written in three distinct lines.

"It is a map." She whispered.

"Excuse me?" Mayfair said, her voice clearly disbelieving.

"It is a map full of puzzles." Taylor said spinning on them. Patterson's eyes lit up, her mind working as her eyes darted across the images. There was a sudden slamming sound, everyone in the office looked toward the interrogation rooms.

"I want to talk to someone in charge." the deep voice rang clearly.

"Looks like someone is signing your song, Shaw." Reade said as the polygraph tech came out, eyes a little scared. Taylor sighed and looked at Mayfair, who nodded. Taylor walked toward the room and slid open the door.

John Doe, as they were calling him, looked up at the door slid open. A young woman entered, her eyes were the color of mature leaves in summer. A deep and alluring green. Her black hair was long and braided, resting halfway down her back. She skin was a lighter olive color and the light blue button up she was wearing tucked into her crisp jeans did nothing the hide her curves. His eyes instinctively glanced at her weapon and badge. She had a folder in her hand.  
Taylor felt her pulse quickly as his eyes roamed over her. They were much more startling now that the last of the drug had left his system. When his eyes latched on to her gun, she held her hands up slightly, like when you approached someone you didn't want to spook.

"Sir," She said softly, his eyes snapped to hers. "I am Agent Taylor Shaw. I work with the FBI." She sat down the the chair close to him. His torso was covered in a black tank top and he had been given a pair of loosing fitting jeans that sat on his hips.

"What is happening? Who am I?" he asked, leaning toward her. Taylor felt a twing in her heart for this man.

"You were drugged with something called Z.I.P. it is used to erase memories. We don't know who you are but we are working on it, if you are in any system, we will find out." Taylor swallowed the lump in her throat. "Sir, do you recognize me?" His brow drew down in confusion.

"The doctor's think that if you encounter something familiar, it may help to trigger a memory." She hastily explained.

"Why would I know you? I don't even know me." He asked, his voice softer. Taylor pulled out the photo of her name. She placed it in front of him and tapped it with her finger. She has nice hands, he thought.

"Because that is my name and badge number." She had leaned closer to him. He grabbed the photo and looked at it. He looked up at her again, dropping the photo. His hands slowly reached for her. Taylor did her best to not move as his hand found hers on the table, and his other hand traveled up her arm, tracing light across her shoulder and up her neck, to gently cup her cheek. His hand was warm and calloused in places. His fingers were long and lightly touch her ear. His eyes bored into hers, searching almost pleading for something. Her heart thundered in her chest as he leaned in closer.

"Anything?" she asked, breathless. Sadness swept through his eyes as he shook his head. His hands dropped in defeat and he laid his head on the table. She reached out and took one of his hands, giving it a tight squeeze.

"No what?" he asked, his voice muffled.

"Well, we are still waiting for the results of your DNA and ..."

"No," he interrupted, lifting his glistening eyes to her once more. "I mean what happens to me, now?" Taylor swallowed thickly. His emotions were so raw.

"We will put you in a safe house with a protective detail." Taylor stated. He only nodded and put his head back down. "I will have someone bring you something to eat." She stiffly stood up and left the room, leaving the door open. Dr. Bordon was there, talking with Mayfair. Their eyes looked up at her, but she shook her head.

***  
John sat quietly in the passenger seat of her vehicle, watching the city of New York pass with a child's wonder as she drove them to the safe house. A little brown stone in a nondescript suburb. The detail was already posted when they pulled up. She climbed out, followed by John, who was clutching his new duffel that was packed with his new clothes. They had made a brief stop at a second hand store to pick him up a few outfits and jackets. Winter was on the horizon and they would have to go shopping for more clothes but these would do for a few days. He followed her closely as they walked into the house.

"What is this place?" His voice rumbled behind her as she unlocked the door front. She closed the door behind them, John wandered into the center of the sparsely decorated living room. 

"This is an FBI safe house. We use it mostly for threatened witnesses before trial or entry into witness protection. There isn't much. A couch, TV, table and chairs and a bed upstairs. It will do for now, until we can get you set up with something more permanent." Taylor flicked on the lights in the rooms as she went, giving him the basic tour. 

"If you are hungry, just let one of the guys outside know and they will get you whatever you feel like." She felt unsure and awkward, he just stood in the living room looking lost. 

"I don't know what I like." His voice was small but broken. Taylor reached out for his hands. 

"John, look at me." His eyes snapped to hers, the intensity there made her breath catch. "We will figure this out. One step at a time. Dr. Bordon says that your case is unique, he has never seen anything like this before. Your memories may come back, in the mean time we will start small. Okay?" Taylor looked down at his extensively tattooed forearms, her eyes wandering the path down to his wrist. That was when something caught her eye. She pulled his left hand closer, turning it over in her hands. There was a small scar there, just above his wrist and below the meat of his hand. A jagged scar in the shape of a 'T'. Taylor felt her blood go cold as she looked up into John's eyes once again. Blue, baby blue of a clear summer sky. Taylor's breath came quicker as the reality of who he might be slammed into her. 

John's gaze softened as Taylor examined his hand. Her small finger tracing a scar there that looked like a 'T'. Huh, that is interesting. He thought as he realized it was her first initial. But then she looked up into his eyes and there was an emotion he couldn't name in them as she looked deeply into his eyes. For a brief moment nothing happened but then she pulled his closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. John was stunned until his body relaxed into the hug and he pulled her tighter against him. 

"I am sorry this happened to you John." She whispered and pulled back. John felt reluctant to let her go. She felt so good against him. Like he was safe and that everything was going to be alright. 

"I ... huh ... I have to go. See you in the morning, John." She looked over her shoulder before slipping out the door. 

***  
Taylor had the windows down in her car on her drive home to clear her head. That scar. It couldn't be, it just couldn't be. But there was a small part of her that clung to the glimmer of hope. She unlocked her door and walked into her empty two bedroom condo. The light from the outside filtered in, casting long shadows through her living room. She walked straight for her bar and grabbed the Jameson and poured herself three fingers, neat. She walked out on to her patio and looked out over Central Park. 

Taylor took a deep drink of her whiskey and looked down at her own left hand, above the wrist in the meat of her hand on the side. A small 'K' shaped scar shinned in the city lights. She rested her glass against her forehead as she stared at her own scar. 

"Impossible." She whispered. 'Improbable.' Her mind answered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while dear readers, personal life took me away from writing this one for a bit. Enjoy!

Chapter Two

The coffee shop across the street from Taylor's loft was beyond noisy. John shifted uncomfortably beside her, but Dr. Bordon had suggested that he try to establish a normal routine. Getting coffee before going into the office was something that Taylor did every day she worked. It seemed like a good place to start.But John was starting to doubt that as they got to the counter and the barista asked what he wanted to drink. Taylor had ordered a medium chai with a shot, John looked a little panicked as Taylor leaned in.

"Start basic, John. Just get a small coffee. You can add your own cream and sugar over there." She pointed to a little circular table that held an assortment of condiments.

"Small coffee, please." He said hastily trying to duck behind Taylor, not sure how to feel about the barista blatantly appraising him.

"Nice, tats man." She said with a cheerful smile. John bobbed his head once with a murmured 'thanks' and followed Taylor closely as she went over to the end of the counter to wait. She drink came up first with a thick dollop of whipped cream in the steaming milk mixture. John wrinkled his nose at the smell. Taylor let out a soft laugh as she sprinkled cinnamon on the top and covered it with a lead.

"Guess we know you are not a chai kind of guy." She took a little sip and closed her eyes in bliss. His small coffee came up next. He gingerly took the cup and smelled, the aroma made his mouth water. He took a small sip, trying to not burn his tongue. He made an appreciative sound and reached for a lid. It was Taylor's turn to make a face.

"Okay, black coffee it is." They walked out to her car and headed to the FBI main building. Traffic was awful but the music Taylor listened to helped. The base shook his seat and the guitar cords made him smile, his fingers tingling with a half remembered dream.

"Who is this?" he asked, Taylor looked down at the CD player to see which one was playing.

"Disturbed." She said and he nodded as if that meant something to him. "They are a rock/metal band. I find them easy to listen to when traffic is a gnarled mess like this." They had finished their drinks by the time Taylor peeled into her parking spot. She climbed out of the car, clipped on her gun on her left hip and badge next to it. Her cell phone clipped on the opposite side, stretching to loosen the tension in her shoulders. John's eyes were appraising as he watched her stretch, his heart hammered into his rib cage. 

"Catch," She said, tossing a water bottle at him. His right hand shot out and his fingers closed around the cool bottle. "So you are a righty. With good reflexes." She smiled at him and he couldn't help but smile back. She was helping him learn things a about himself, in her way. A playful way that he found ... enduring. 

They split ways when it the elevator doors dinged open. He had an appointment to keep with Dr. Bordon, it was a daily thing. Taylor headed straight for Patterson's office. The blonde was staring at a huge projection screen with images of that tattoos all over them.

"Patterson," Taylor said in greeting. The woman's eyes were sparkling, like she was enjoying the challenge. "What do we have so far?"

"I laser scanned John's entire body across all known spectrum. We have captured hundreds if not thousands of images from John's body. Numeric sequences, phrases, images. In over two dozen languages. My team and I have fed them into a computer database that I designed that will cross-reference them and if anything in the databases we have access to pops, we will get an alert." Patterson looked so proud of herself.

"So basically a google alert for his tattoos?" Mayfair asked from the doorway. Patterson looked a little flustered and a bit offended.

"It is more complicated than that but ... essentially yes. It is a google alert system for the tattoos." She looked deflated but Taylor gave her an encouraging smile.

"What about this one?" Taylor pointed to a large black square that covered John's left deltoid muscle.

"I have been wondering about that one too. With as intricate as all the others are, why this black patch?" Patterson looked up at with, a quizzical gleam in her eye.

"What if John had a tattoo before our unsub got to him?" Reade asked entering the room, coffee in hand. Taylor nodded, she had been thinking the same thing.

"That would make sense, if he had a tattoo before he was drugged, than the unsub or unsubs would have had to cover it up. Especially if it was easily identifiable." Taylor heard a startled in take of breath and turned around to find Zapata stand there with John, whose eyes danced over all of the images.

"Tasha, I thought we were meeting in the pen." Taylor said, annoyance clear in her voice. Zapata just shrugged.

"Doc thought it would be good for him to see." John walked toward the board, zeroing in on a specific tattoo.

"This one, I never saw it." He said pointing to a few rows of Chinese.

"That is because it is behind your left ear. And it is only about an inch long." Patterson supplied. "I have already sent it of for ..." She was interrupted mid sentence by John speaking in Chinese, seeming to read the inscription.

"So you speak Chinese?" Taylor asked, eyeing him. He gave her a sheepish look, he wasn't keeping secrets on purpose. "What did it say?" She prompted.

"It is an address, and a date. Today's date." He said, writing the address down on a pad of paper Patterson handed to him.

"399 White Street, Apt 7." Patterson read, pulling it up on a map.

"Right in the heart of Chinatown." Reade said.

"Who lives there?" Taylor asked.

"Chao Zheng, a transportation engineer for G.E. He is a Chinese national who is here on an H1-B visa."

"Flags?" Taylor asked. Patterson shook her head.

"None. Been here for three year, spotless record." Patterson supplied.

"Okay, let's go pay him a visit." Everyone turned including John. "Whoa big guy, where are you going?" Taylor put her hand square in the middle of his chest, pushing firmly.

"I'm going with you." He sounded so sure.

"No, no you are not. You stay here." She gave his chest a little shove and it barely phased him. 'Christ he is solid as a brick wall!' She thought, her hand tingling from the contact. The heat from his chest searing her palm.

"That clue was on my body, in a language I speak and you don't." The fire in his eyes was easy to understand but Taylor couldn't risk him getting hurt.

"No, John. It could be dangerous." She said instead, he huffed like the idea was annoying.

"What if I am not just a message, Taylor? What if there is something there that I am supposed to find or see?" His chest heaved under her palm. Taylor had to make a conscious effort to keep her hand there and not pull it back. The heat between them was rising.

"Take him." Mayfair's voice ran out. Taylor shot the Director a furious look. "He has a point, Shaw. Take him with you." Taylor felt like her blood was on fire, she hated being second guessed. But she lowered her hand and walked out to the car with John following closely behind. Taylor sat in the back checking her weapon and strapping on her vest. John watched her intently. They pulled up and Taylor got out of the car, when John moved to followed, she shoved him back in the car.

"You are staying here." Her shove was forceful enough and he didn't have his feet planted, so he tip backward.

"That wasn't the deal." His eyes snapped fire at her.

"Don't care. You stay here until the situation is secure. Mayfair maybe the big boss but out here I am the boss. My team relies on me to keep them safe and bring them home at the end of the night. I can't risk you coming into a potentially dangerous situation and putting them at risk. I will come get you when the situation is secure. Zapata, stay with him. Reade, with me." Taylor slammed the door on John's face. He looked after her, yet he wasn't mad but he felt a sudden fear seize his gut at the thought her in danger. And it seemed that she marched head on into it without regard for herself. 

***  
Taylor and Reade approached the apartment door to hear metal music blaring through the cheaply made material. They shared a look and Taylor slammed the door with her fist. They could hear the click of the door unlocking and opening. Taylor shoved her way in, past the young punk looking Chinese man.

"Mind if we come in? Anyone else here?" Taylor pushed her way in. The man was shouting at them in Chinese, looking like he as going to run. Taylor put her hand firmly on his chest.

"Sit down!" She shouted, the man put his hands up. "I am looking for Chao, does he live here?" More frantic Chinese, nearly drowned out by the metal. Taylor ground her teeth in frustration, feeling the telling twing in her temple. 

"Dammit Reade, turn that shit off!" She shouted. Reade pulled the plug out of the wall. The silence made her ears ring and the man continued to ramble in agitated Chinese.

"I don't think you are going to get much out of him, boss." Reade stated the obvious, she shot him a dirty look. Taylor sighed, hands on her hips as she looked around.

"I will go get him." She ran down the stairs.

***  
John watched everything with interest. He wondered what the world was like from Taylor's view. Danger around every corner, the possibility of dying very real when she put on that badge and gun. His eyes wandered back to the building in time to find Taylor walking out, looking very annoyed. Her loosely braided hair was hanging over her shoulder, the little fly away hairs moving around her face in the wind. She approached the car and opened the door.

"John, I need your help please." He could tell that she was annoyed that she had been wrong. He slowly got out of the car, feeling like he was unfolding. He followed her up the stairs to the apartment, finding a thin frantic looking Chinese man, whose eyes only got bigger as he took in John's sheer size. The rail of Chinese started up again.

"What is he saying?" Taylor asked from beside him, her hand resting on her gun. To some it might look like a relaxed posture but he could see the tension in her body.

"He is saying sorry that he let his student visa expire, he has just been so busy that he didn't have the time." John was going to go on but Taylor held up her hand.

"I don't care about his visa. I need to know about Chao." John translated and the man waved a frantic finger at the door to the right. Taylor pulled out her weapon in one smooth motion that John had to admire and nodded for him to take Chao's roommate out in to the hall. He made a face but complied, he was starting to understand that there was no room for argument when Taylor was in Agent mode.

Taylor nodded to Reade once, when John and the roommate were out in the hall. If this door was rigged, she needed John to be safe. Zapata carefully examined the door but couldn't find anything in the particle board that would indicate a bomb or trip wire. Taylor nodded to Reade, who heaved his foot into the door. It shattered under the impact. They rushed the room but Chao was not inside. All they did find was lots of chemical equipment and a single laptop in the center of the desk.

"Zapata?" Taylor motioned.

"I am offended that there was a question there." Zapata flashed Taylor a dazzling smile and sat in front of the computer. Taylor looked around at all the equipment, she was no science gal but she knew what she was looking at. This was a distillation and refinement set.

"You smell that?" Reade asked, covering his nose with his sleeve. Zapata only nodded as she worked furiously on computer. "Like rotten eggs?" He went on. Taylor got closer to the table, a traces of dusty yellow substance could been seen.

"Sulfur," Taylor murmured.

"Sulfur? As in?" Reade asked. Taylor nodded

"As in plastic explosives." Shit.

***  
John leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and one leg propped against the wall. Chao's roommate chattered on, like he hadn't had someone to talk to in a long time. A sudden terrified scream gave them both pause. A man's furious yelling followed immediately by a loud smack and thud. John stood up straighter, canting his head to the side and listening.

"The landlord and his wife. He beats her, we all know it but can't do anything about it. Real scum." The roommate said, a soft sigh escaping him. John took off down the stairs, heading for the screaming. He pushed through the ajar door to find a woman cowering on the floor, blood coming from her split lip and her eye swelling up .

"Are you alright?" John asked her in Chinese.

"Who the fuck are you? Get out of my house!" The man shouted at him. John felt his body tensing in anticipation.

"I think you need to come with me," he held out his hand for the trembling woman. Suddenly another man appeared in the door.

"What's going on?" He asked. The landlord pointed at John.

"This fucker broke in." John held up his hands.

"Whoa, no. That is not what happened. I heard her screaming..." John was cut off as the landlord swung at him. John's instincts took over, he blocked the blow and for one moment there was a pause as his mind gave way to reflex and years of training kicked in.

***  
Patterson burst into the conference room where Mayfair had spread out her paper work. The smile on Patterson' face gave the Deputy Director pause. Mayfair raised her eyebrows in expectation.

"How is your Latin?" Paterson asked, handing Mayfair the image. Mayfair looked down at the image, clearly it was the tattoo that had been covered up on John's arm.

"Not good," Mayfair admitted. " But I know what this is. 'For God and Country'. This is a Navy SEAL tattoo." Mayfair looked down at the flying eagle holding a Trident and anchor.

"No. No way! If he was Navy, his finger prints would have popped in a our initial search." But Mayfair was already shaking her head as Patterson finished.

"Not if he was Special Ops." She corrected.

***  
"That is weird," Zapata said. Taylor and Reade turned to her, faces curious. "The whole hard drive has been wiped. There is only one video file. And it is set for automatic upload."

"For when?" Taylor asked.

"Four hours." Zapata answered, looking over her shoulder.

"Let's see it." Reade motioned toward the computer. Zapata hit play, the image of Chao popped up on the screen. He began speaking and Taylor let out a groan and held up her hands.

"I'll go get him."

***  
John's mind wasn't really registering what was happening. His instincts and reflexes had taken over. Taylor stopped on the stairs and was momentarily stunned. John was in a full out fight between Chinese men, his lip was bloody but he was clearly the superior fighter. She just stood there for a moment, watching the fury of his skills. But when he began to choke one, she sprung into action.

"John! John!!" She shouted, pulling his arm away from the struggling man. John spun on her and for a moment she thought he was going to engage her but a hint of recognition flicked in his eyes and he dropped the man, who collapsed on the floor. John sagged against the wall. His body began to shake and he looked down at his hands.

"Hey, hey. Are you okay?" Taylor grabbed his hands in hers, forcing him to look at her.

"I ... I was upstairs and I her...heard her scream. That one was ruffing her up... And then that one came in and ... Oh God, I don't know." His hands began to shake again. Taylor took one of his hands and placed it over her heart.

"Focus, John." She said softly. John's eyes locked on hers while he felt the steady beating of her heart against his palm, felt the steady inhale and exhale of her breath. He began to breathe with her and felt his body calming down. "I need you upstairs." They walked upstairs and Taylor made a quick call to local PD, to come take care of the two men.

Zapata played the video again, John was looking at his hand flexing and relaxing his fingers. They were all looking at him, but the softness in Taylor's eyes kept him grounded. John cleared his throat and began to translate.

"He is saying 'Today's action, to hijack a politician, the mother of exiles, is just the start. America has ignored Chinese suffering for too long. America sits back and savors its freedom, while atrocities are committed, and, ah... families are destroyed. Today, America has felt the pain of... loss and suffering. Today the reckoning has begun'." John frowned as the video looped back to the beginning.

"He is speaking in the past tense." Zapata observed.

"So whatever he is planning, hasn't happened yet." Reade agreed. But Taylor was already out the door calling Mayfair on the radio.

"Three and a half hours, that is how long we have to figure out what Chao is planning. Patterson?" Taylor's voice rang over the speaker in the office. The team was on her six as she descended the stairs.

"On it!" Patterson responded.

"Chao mentions a politician. Mother of all exile's." Taylor said as the began climbing into the car.

"Senator Judith Moore. She is the only marquee female politician in New York. Moore's pro-immigration and pro-Chinese trade." Reade said.

"It lines up." Zapata agreed.

"Dial in Hostage Rescue. I want her and any other target of value put on lock down immediately." Mayfair shouted orders. Taylor could hear people scrambling in the background.

"Patterson?" Taylor asked.

"His phone is off but I've got into his e-mail. They are all in Chinese." Patterson sounded flustered.

"Get them to a translator." Taylor said.

"Already did. Our translators are having a difficult time. The dialect is called the Devil's Language." Mayfair informed them. John snapped his head toward the phone in Taylor's hand.

"I can... I can translate!" He said, Taylor paused for a moment.

"Patterson, send them to the tablet. And Patterson, root Chao's phone. Get it back on and get me a location." Taylor ordered. She heard the tablet ding and handed it to John, who began skimming the e-mails.

"Shaw, take me off speaker." Mayfair said. Taylor clicked it off and held the phone to her ear.

"Good," she said, eyes still on John who was worrying his lip between his teeth.

"We were able to see what tattoo was underneath that square. It was an eagle in flight, holding a trident and anchor." Mayfair told Taylor. Taylor's eyes moved over John.

"A SEAL tattoo." She murmured. "That would make sense."

"Got it!" shouted Patterson. "Flatbush and Livingston, headed west." Taylor relayed the cross streets to Reade, who floored the gas. Taylor hung up the phone and settled in for the ride.

"How are you doing, John?" She asked, his eyes drifted up to hers. He gave her a lopsided smile.

"I'm not really sure." He said honestly. "I don't have a frame of reference. The Chinese and the fighting.... It just comes to me." She nodded and he went back to reading the e-mails. But he stopped and looked back at her.

"If someone knew about Chao and wanted to stop him, why not just call the FBI? Why tattoo it on my body? Is it because of what I can do, maybe I am just a weapon." john asked her, not being able to focus. Taylor had been wondering the same thing. She shrugged, seeing the hopelessness building in his eyes.

"I don't know John. Your situation is strange. But I promises you, we will help you find out." John nodded, pinching his nose and went back to reading the e-mails.

"We're here." Reade said as he rounded to corner at the intersection Patterson had given them.

"Eyes sharp everyone." Taylor said, her eyes darting over as many faces as she could.

"There!" Shouted John, pointing to a young man who was disappearing into the subway. Taylor and Reade launched out of the car, while Zapata and John stopped more people from going in.

"Taylor," John caught her as she walked past him. His thumb rubbed across her wrist, making her pulse skitter. "Please take him alive." Taylor looked up into his sky blue eyes and nodded.

"If we can, we will." Taylor and Reade raced down the stairs, keeping Chao in sight. Once they were all on the platform, Taylor motioned for Reade to flank him while she headed straight for him. It wasn't easy moving through a crowd this thick without drawing attention to oneself. Taylor watched as he pulled out his phone, his eyes dancing over the text. A frown creased his brows as the train pulled into the station. Chao's eyes darted up and around, landing on Taylor then Reade.

"Shit," muttered Taylor as he disappeared into the train. "Reade!" She shouted and they jumped into the train as the door slid closed. They raced through the car after Chao, who reached the end of the car and uncoupled it. Taylor picked up speed and prepared to launch herself toward the next car but Reade grabbed her vest and pulled her back.

"Taylor!" He shouted pulling her to a stop, her shoulder impacted the side of the door, she was about to spin on Reade and snap at him for stopping her when something caught her eye. Her whole body froze and Reade leaned around her to see what she was looking at. The device was simple but tamper proof. About two bricks worth of C4 was stuck to the train car. Taylor grabbed it with sure hands and looked at Reade, who shook his head.

"We can't pull any of those pins. If we do, it will detonate." Taylor turned her wide eyes to Reade. He nodded, "I am sure, I have seen this before." The red numbers were quickly counting down. She jumped out of the train and racing into the tunnel.

"Get them back!" She shouted.

"What are you doing!?" Reade shouted after her. Taylor began tearing away as much of the C4 as she could without disturbing the pins.

"If we can't stop it, I can reduce the blast!" She shouted. 25 seconds.

"That's crazy!!" Reade returned.

"We don't have time, do what I say!!" 15 seconds, Reade spun around and order everyone back as far as they could go. Taylor looked at the bomb, she had taken more than half of it away. 10 seconds.

"That's enough." She took her stance and threw the bomb with all her might and then dove to avoid the blast.

***  
John felt the ground shake under his feet. He and Zapata exchanged a nervous glance.

People began rushing out of the subway tunnel, followed by a thick plum of smoke and dust. John took two steps toward the entrance when Zapata pulled him to a stop.

"We cant , John. We have to secure from up here." He looked at her but the fear he felt was in her eyes too. He looked toward the crowd of rushing people and moved to help the in coming police, fire, and ems. Praying that Taylor was okay.

***  
Reade looked frantically through the dust cloud.

"Shaw!" He shouted. "SHAW!?!" Still no answer and he couldn't see shit through thew dust or hear anything over the cries of the terrified passengers. "TAYLOR!!" He saw some figure emerging from the cloud and felt immediate relief as Taylor's face materialized, covered in dust and blood running out of one of her ears and the corner of her mouth.

"I'm here," she said, touching the blood and looking at her glistening fingers, clearly annoyed. Reade offered her his hand and helped her into the car.

"You okay?" Reade asked, looking her over. She pushed him off and looked at everyone else. Glad when she saw only fear but no injuries.

"Not really," she answered honestly.Her ears were ringing in the most unpleasant way.

***  
John and Zapata waited anxiously as watched the rest of the people to come up. When Taylor and Reade emerged, Jon rushed forward with Zapata. He took Taylor's face in his hands, his eyes dancing over her dusty features, noting the blood. His thumb ghosted over a forming bruise on her cheek, his features darkening with rage. 

"What happened?" he asked, his eyes looking over the rest of her with what seemed to be practiced eyes. 

"Chao has a friend and we got made. He uncoupled our car and stick an explosive device to the car." Taylor said. 

"Yeah, and Shaw grabbed it and ran." Reade added, almost under his breath. John frowned at her but she only shrugged, waving off the paramedics who wanted to look at her. 

"But the subway was not the target." Zapata said and Taylor nodded in agreement. 

"No, he wanted us distracted." Taylor had pulled out of John's hands and was beginning to pace. 

"I thinking I may have found out why he his doing this." John said, Taylor stopped mid stride and turned to him. "In this e-mail, he was mentioning that his mother was killed in a Chinese prison camp, he just found out." Taylor's brow furrowed and the wheels in her mind began to turn. 

"Mother of exiles?" Reade asked. Taylor turned toward the bay.

"It is from a poem. Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand. A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command the air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame."Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she with silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!" Taylor recited flawlessly. "It was written by Emma Lazarus and it is inscribed on a plaque on one of the biggest tourist attractions in New York." All their eyes went toward the bay, where the Statue of Liberty was standing proudly, holding her torch in the air. 

"Chao is going to blow up the Statue of Liberty?" John's voice was disbelieving.

"Taylor took off toward the car, calling behind her for the other's to follow. Taylor was already on the phone with the main office when Reade put the car into drive a sped toward the docks. 

"Mayfair, we are almost there and we will need a boat to get out to the island." Taylor shouted as she rechecked her vest. 

"Coast Guard is ready and waiting, we have stopped all ferry services and have begun to evacuate the island. The governor was due to be there for some public event but got pulled to deal with the subway bomb." Mayfair's voice rang over the speaker phone. 

"That explains the politician reference in Chao's video." Reade said, his eyes darting ahead of them to get through traffic. 

"But that will be good, right? Security should be tight." Zapata asked. But Taylor was staking her head, pouring over a blue print of the island, with John looking over her shoulder. 

"Maybe but he has a hell of a head start and plastic explosives won't set of the metal detectors. He can smuggle in the device and trigger if it looks innocuous." Taylor responded. 

"But he will still have to reassemble the device, right? He would have to be some where out of sight." Zapata countered, Taylor nodded her agreement. Taylor felt the tires and brakes screeched to a halt as the came to the edge of the pier. She could see the Guard waiting for them. She spun as John got out of the car and tried to follow them. 

"What are you doing?" She asked, placing her hand firmly over his heart. 

"I am coming with you." John said, defiance in his eyes. "I saw the map on the tablet. Liberty Island is nearly 14 acres, you need more eyes." He countered before she could even speak. She narrowed her eyes at him. "I can't stand by and let him kill innocent people." Taylor huffed but reached into the car and grabbed an extra vest. 

"Put this on." She ordered and John slid into the vest, securing it without help. It felt like a second set of skin to him, like he had worn something similar for a long time. "You stay by me, got it?" She pointed threateningly at him. He held up his hands and nodded, following her as she jogged toward the waiting boat. 

"Zapata, search the crowd for him. make sure he doesn't get off. Reade, I need you on the perimeter. John is with me." She ordered as the boat shot across the bay. Taylor and John split off, heading for the service entrance. 

"Emergency, please evacuate to the East Dock." The female voice boomed over the speakers. Taylor spotted a Ranger crouched over something by the circular stair case that followed the interior of the Statue. 

"Excuse me! Ranger!" Taylor shouted out, her hand resting on her gun, showing her badge. The Ranger straightened and turned around, for a moment time spotted for John. He recognized Chao's face the instant before Chao raised a gun and fired three shots. Taylor ducked out of the way, drawing her own weapon and returning fire. John felt the impact of two bullets hit his vest and the third grazed his left arm. The force of the two bullets hitting his vest knocked the air out of him and his knees gave out. Chao raced up the stairs and John saw Taylor's face enter his vision.

"John! John!" She shouted. He struggled to breathe and was holding his left arm. But the pain wasn't unfamiliar to John, suddenly he knew he had been shot before. He heard Taylor calling out to her the rest of her team. "John is down!" She turned back to him, her eyes assessing him. She saw the two bullets in the vest and the blood oozing from his between his fingers. 

"Go!" He finally managed after taking in a deep, painful breath. "GO! I'm fine!" He urged, he saw the indecision in Taylor's eyes but she nodded and took off after Chao. 

"I am in pursuit, tango dressed as a Ranger!" She called into her radio, taking the stairs two at a time, in the mad dash up the stairs to stop Chao. As she neared the top of the stair case, Taylor slowed her ear still ringing from the blast and her senses off. Before she knew what happened, she saw Chao's feet coming straight for her chest, she spun out of the way, dropping her weapon. She blocked Chao's furious blows and landed a few of her own, on his jaw and cheek. But she missed on of his kicks and it landed against her ribs. She heard a crack and felt searing pain rushing through her system. Chao was on her, spinning her around with a knife to her throat. Through her watering eyes she saw John holding her weapon. 

"Chao!" John shouted out, holding the gun on Chao. His heart racing at the sight of a knife pressed intimately against Taylor's slender throat. 

"Drop it!" Chao shouted but Taylor shook her head at John. 

"He can't do that Choa. I am a federal agent. There is no going back if you hurt me more." Taylor tried to keep her voice calm but John's anger flared at the mention of her being harmed. 

"Drop the gun or I will kill her!" Chao pulled back on Taylor's braid and pressed the knife closer to her neck, she felt the steel bite into her flesh. 

"You kill me, he will kill you, Chao." Taylor said, gripping Chao's wrist with her hand.

"Taylor ..." There was a plea in John's voice, Taylor looked up at him. His hand shaking that was holding the gun. Taylor suddenly remembered what Mayfair had told her. She nodded briefly at him. "I don't know if I ... ca ... can" he murmured.

"Chao, this is no way to honor your mother. We can stop this now." Taylor pushed, trying again. 

"It is too late." Chao said, Taylor felt his muscles flex, her eyes went wide and John's face changed. The trust in Taylor's eyes while she looked at him with a knife to her throat gave him strength. His hand stopped shaking and his face hardened, pulling the trigger. Taylor felt Chao jerk and release her. She spun to find him gripping the arm that had been holding the knife. She handcuffed him and checked the bomb.

John felt his world shift after he pulled the trigger. A memory rushed up to meet him, a heavily wooded area filled with metal targets. He had a large gun in his hands and was moving swiftly through the course. Firing at each target. He missed, twice. A bearded man came into view then, a disapproving look on his face. 

"You missed." He said, John felt air moving swiftly through his lungs, his hands shaking with adrenaline. "Do it again." the man ordered and suddenly John was back in the Statue, watching Taylor secure Chao. 

"I remember ... I remember something." John murmured and Taylor was by his side in an instant. She presence comforting him as the memory fade. 

***  
Taylor looked at John, sitting at her desk from the conference room. She felt a pressure building in her chest every time she looked at him. A nagging sensation in her mind, like something she forget to remember. 

"I have no doubt, Mayfair, that John is or was special forces. He is intelligence trained, his skills way too specialized. His language skilled, hand to hand combat, even marksmanship under pressure." Taylor paused, her fingers grazing over the angry red mark on her neck. "He save my life today. And he remembered something." Taylor turned to Mayfair, whose eyes had grown wide. 

"What was it?" She inquired. 

"Running an outdoor firing course." Zapata answered. Mayfair shook her head. 

"Who is he?" She asked more to herself than the group. 

"I don't know." Taylor looked over her shoulder at John, who was just looking at his hands. "All I know is that one of the tattoos helped to save hundreds, if not thousands of lives today. John could be the greatest asset we have ever come across. And you," Taylor leaned over the table toward the Director. "risked everything by sending him into the field." Mayfair looked unperturbed by Taylor's blatant disrespect. 

"He helped us decipher a tattoo, saved hundreds of civilians, saved your life and recovered a memory. I would say the risk paid off." Mayfair countered. Taylor felt an annoyed flush creep up her chest and neck, flushing her face. But she wisely said nothing more. 

"I still don't get the why." Zapata chimed in, breaking the growing tension between Mayfair and Taylor. "If our unsub is a good guy, who wanted us to stop Chao, why not just call it in? Why go through all the trouble of taking John, drugging him and then covering him in tattoos?" 

"That is just a few of the questions surrounding John." Patterson said, Taylor could see that her mind was already working though more tattoos. 

"And even though this tattoo was helpful, we have no way of knowing where the others will lead." Reade voiced the concern that had been gnawing at him since the came back. Taylor nodded, but didn't say anything. She had turned to face John, whose eyes were locked on to her. 

"Okay, it has been a long day team. Go home. The questions will still be there tomorrow." Mayfair dismissed them all. Taylor walked out of the briefing room toward John, who stood as she approached. 

"I will drive you home." She said and he followed her out to her car. The drive back was quiet, no music playing and John thought Taylor was deep in her own mind. 

"Did Chao say anything?" John asked, to break the growing silence. Taylor blinked and glanced over at him. 

"No, he was still in surgery. We will talk to him in the morning." Taylor said as they pulled up to the safe house. They walked inside and Taylor closed the door. 

"How are you, John?" She asked, perching on the arm of the couch. John shrugged and then immediately regretted it. 

"Okay, I guess." He said. "Physically they say I am fine, my arm with heal with minimal scaring. Emotionally, I ... I'm not sure." He answered, Taylor held his injured arm carefully in her hands, inspecting the dressing. His eyes found hers and suddenly, he just had to know. 

"How did you know I could make that shot?" He asked, watching her reaction closely. Taylor sighed and looked at his hand. 

"I didn't." She finally admitted, looking back up at him. "I took a chance." John looked baffled. 

"None of this feels real, Taylor. I feel like I should be waking up any minute and thinking what a crazy dream this has all been." Taylor smiled softly at him. 

"It will be okay, John." She tugged on his arm and pulled him down to her, wrapping her arms around his neck, as his arms snaked around her waist. 

"I don't know what that feels like." He whispered into her shoulder as he held onto her tighter.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry my darling readers, my brain has been else where. Planning my wedding and dealing with family politics ... Ugh! But any who, here is the next chapter. Another is in the works! Enjoy!

Chapter 3

John looked at the needle and cringed, he had never liked them.

"Once I insert this, you will be erased. Probably permanently." said the same bearded man from John's memory of the shooting course. "Everything that you have been will cease to exist." The look in the other man's eye said that he wouldn't blame John for backing out. But John felt the conviction in his chest. This was how it had to be. 

"I know," John heard his own voice. Watching the needle, feeling the bite as it entered his skin. He took a calming breath. "But it is the only choice." John watched as the other man opened up the clamp on the IV line. At first John felt nothing but as the Z.I.P. worked its way through his system, he felt his mind grow sluggish and for a terrifying moment, he thought he was going to die. His heart thundered in his chest, his limbs began to tingle, he heard a humming in his ears and felt his pupils dilate, then darkness claimed him. And he remembered nothing.

***  
John sat blot up in bed, his heart racing as if he had just run a marathon. That dream, if it was a dream had shaken him to the core. Why would he willingly choose this? He looked at his steady hands in the shadows of his room and wondered. He knew sleep would not come back for him tonight. So he got up and sat out on the back porch to watch the sun rise. He couldn't keep his mind from wondering to a pair of pale, leaf green eyes framed by thick black lashes. And a warm smile that gave him comfort in this maelstrom that had become his life. 

***  
Taylor pulled awake, out of that terrible recurring nightmare she had. Kurt's young voice calling out to her, accusing her. Her heart hammered in her chest as she struggled to calm her breathing down. 0400hrs. Her clock seemed to be taunting her. She took a deep breath and flung back the covers that had gotten tangled around legs as she surely tossed and turned. Taylor put her feet on the floor and her head in her hands. She knew what Dr. Borden would say and he had already prescribed her something. She glance toward the unused bottle of Temazepam. He had said it would help her fall and stay asleep but she couldn't take one. She hadn't even tried one and he had prescribed them to her almost two months ago. Taylor let out a pained groan as she stood up and gathered her gym clothes. 

***  
John was towel drying himself off after showering. Taylor had been thoughtful enough to provide him with a door hanging gym, or that is what she called it. He had to read through the instructions to see what he could do but once he had gotten the hang of it, he could give himself a hell of a workout. John looked at his reflection in the full length mirror. His hands moved over his tattooed torso and arms. His skin was still very sensitive. According to Patterson it was because all of the tattoos were new, barely a month old. John glanced at the lotion that Taylor had given him. Another thoughtful gift. She had said it would help with the tight feeling and itchiness. He idly wondered as he rubbed the lotion over his skin if she had any tattoos, if that was how she knew what would help. He felt a smile ghost over his lips as her face came into his mind. Her healthy leaf green eyes, her soft looking pale pink lips and porcelain skin. He felt his heart skip a beat at the thought of seeing her soon. 

***  
Taylor felt the hot water sliding over her skin, washing away the sweat and tension of her dream and early morning workout. Her morning showers were quick. Wash hair, wash face, wash body. Done. She wrapped the towel around herself just in time for her phone to let out a shrill ring. She nearly slipped on her wood floors as her wet feet ran for the phone. But when she looked at the caller ID, she almost let it go to to voicemail.

"Hello, Samuel." She answered and could hear her nephews causing chaos in the background. 

"Auntie Tay?" called on of the young voices. 

"Hello Derrick," She responded. It never ceased to amaze them when she could tell them apart over the phone. 

"Hey! Breakfast!" Called Gemma, Sam's beautiful wife. 

"Hey Taylor." Her brother's voice finally came over the phone. He sounded exhausted. "Mom called me today." Taylor felt all the tension she had released at the gym creep back up her spine. Any conversation that started like that was never going to end well. So Taylor just made a questioning sound. 

"She and dad were wondering if you were going to come back for Kurt's memorial this year. Everyone would love to see you." He added that last part every time. The only one would would be glad to see her would be Sarah Weller, Kurt's sister. 

"I can't Sam, things with work ..." Taylor let that drift off,an image of John pushing into her mind. Sam made a disbelieving sound. "Besides, dad shouldn't go to those. It makes everyone uncomfortable." Sam made an out right snort noise this time. 

"Everyone else had forgiven him and moved past it, Taylor. Why can't you?" Taylor felt her own temper flaring. Sam should know well why she couldn't forgive her father's affair with the Weller family. There was a part of her that blamed him still. He was the one who left the back door unlocked the night Kurt disappeared. Taylor took several calming breaths before responding. 

"I have to go." She hung up the phone before Sam could protest further. Taylor rested her forehead against the cold wall next to the phone. Her wet hair had dripped a puddle around her feet. The clock read 0542hrs. She had to get going. John would be waiting for her and now because of her phone call, there would be no time for coffee. 

***  
John slid into the passenger seat of Taylor's car and immediately he knew something was off. There was no music and Taylor was wearing her mirrored aviators, hair braided tightly against her skull. Every line in her body screamed tension and for a moment John wasn't sure what to do. 

"Good morning, John." She said, her voice soft enough to let him know it wasn't his fault. 

"Good morning," he echoed as she peeled out. The drive was a lot more frightening than John cared to comment on but he watched Taylor maneuver in and around traffic like a pro. There was even a part of his mind that whispered to him that this was something he could do. She gave him a soft smile as the elevator door dinged open and they went their own ways. John had a standing appointment with Dr. Borden. 

Taylor went straight for Mayfair's office and found the Deputy Director looking through a file. Taylor stood a waited patiently, knowing that as usual, this was a display of power. She and the Director understood and respected each other but every now and then, Mayfair needed to remind Taylor who was the boss. Mayfair glanced at her and gave a brief nod. 

"I need you to asses John." Mayfair said and Taylor frowned. "I need to know how capable he is of remaining in the field with you and your team. Since you are lead agent, I trust you to evaluate his skills. I want a full break down, Shaw." 

"Yes Ma'am." Taylor said and left the office. Evaluate John's skill set, like that wasn't going to be hard. 

***  
John sat there staring at the doctor across from him. Dr. Borden sat with his legs casually crossed, his ankle resting comfortably on his opposite knee. A clip board for notes resting easily in that space. His fingers were resting with the pads lightly touching, coming to rest on the bottom of his bearded chin. Dark brown eyes clashed with eerie blue. John could feel the words bubbling in his troat, words he wanted to say to someone. 

"I recovered my first memory." he said, leaning back in his chair. Dr. Borden nodded. 

"I was told." Was all he said. "I think that is a very good thing." He continued after another moment of silence. John wondered in the good doctor ever blinked. 

"What do you think it means?" John pressed. The doctor shrugged. 

"I know what you know, John. That the evidence of your hand to hand skills, as well as your fire arm proficiency and the fact that your finger prints are not in any system, leads us to believe that you were a NAVY SEAL, Special Ops in all probability." He said, relaxing his hands down to his shin. John realized he could read Borden's body language with ease. He could tell that Borden was physically fit, though not martial arts trained. That he preferred to do his own manual labor, from the callouses on his hands and that he was probably the most comfortable member of the team when it came to him. 

"Sometimes it feels like it is hard to breathe." John finally said something of substance. Borden smiled encouragingly at him. 

"I can not even imagine what it feels like to be in your situation, John." He confessed.

"I don't remember who I am, who ... who I was. Whatever life I had is gone... shattered into a million tiny pieces. What if there is someone out there looking for me, missing me." John almost exhaled the statement, feeling like the weight of it may crush him. But then his mind brought up an image of Taylor. Would she look for him if he was missing?

"I have something I would like to try, if you are willing, John." He clicked a remote in his hand and a black and white image appeared on the wall beside them. "These are called Rorschach test, and it was designed originally to analyze personality characteristics and emotional functioning. But with your amnesia, my hope is that the ethereal nature of the images might provoke another memory." John turned his eyes to the image. 

"A spider web?" John said with more of a question. 

"There are no right or wrong answers here, John. Only what you see." Borden clicked the remote again and John no doubt about what he saw that time. 

"A target." He said, the memory of the firing course running through his mind. Borden clicked the remote again. 

***  
Taylor had grabbed John as he left Borden's office later that morning, without saying anything other than to crook her finger in a way that made his heart race. He followed her into what looked like an indoor firing range. He stopped in the door way for a moment to marvel at the magnitude of the building he was in. This has to be a subbasement or something. He refocused on Taylor as she stopped at a table full of weapons. Each weapon was neatly laid out, loaded magazines beside them. John's felt two emotions rage within him. Fear and comfort. 

"Your first memory was triggered by a physical activity." Taylor motioned to the table. John's fingers traced over all the weapons. "I was hoping that maybe by doing other physical things, your mind may recover what your muscles still remember." John's finger closed around the handle of some long weapon. But he felt like he knew that weight, that feel.

"That is a M16," Taylor began, holding out the magazine for him. The feel of the thing, the weight was comforting in his palms. "This is how you load it." Taylor moved forward to show him but his instinct took over. He slammed the magazine home, cocked it, and fire without blinking. Taylor however was stunned. She looked down range at the perfect cluster in the target's head. 

"Or you could do it that way." She said, snapping a magazine into another gun. "This is an M-4." She handed it to him, taking the M16 from him. She stood next to him and began to fire when he did. He got a flash of a desert but nothing else. Within a few hours, Taylor had determined that he was proficient in all fire arms. Even better than she was, if put to the contest. 

Taylor paced back and forth in the padded gym room. John watched her cautiously but didn't make a move toward her. She seemed to be having a debate with herself about how to handle this next assessment. He had already voiced his concern about hurting her several times, requesting that Reade assess this talent. But that had been a mistake, he realized as Taylor pulled him into the center of the floor. She stood, her hands loose at her sides as she looked at him. John stood very very still, unsure of what to do or say. Suddenly Taylor's fist lashed out at him and he barely blocked it. His instincts took over for a moment and his fist launched out in repsonse. Taylor quickly dodged it, grabbing his wrist and forcing him to bend at the waist, his arm barred. 

"I am the best fighter on the team, John." She whispered in his ear, twisting his wrist just a little bit more. "I will buy you diner if you can hit me." She released him and danced away like a cat. John growled low in his chest and stalked after her. Her fists were up this time and she was ready. He would attack, she would counter. She would attack, he would either get hit or counter. By the end of the hour, they were both sweating but Taylor didn't need to buy dinner. John was ever impressed with her skill set, as well as the emerging information about his own. 

"Still got more, John?" She taunted. He smiled then, a real smile. Confident in her ability to avoid getting hurt, he launched at her, taking her by the waoist to the ground. She rolled with him, grabbing him by the shoulders and using his own momentum to toss him across the mats. He rolled, landing in a crouch. 

"I want dinner." He stated, causing Taylor to let put the most glorious laugh. The smile she gave him was pure hellion as she crooked a finger at him in a "come and get it" fashion. 

***  
Patterson paced in front of the large screen, that her team had plastered all of John's tattoos on for her. She did love a good puzzle and this, well this was a doozy. She didn't notice Mayfair standing in her door way. Not until Mayfair said something. 

"I have Shaw evaluating John's skill set." Patterson jumped and uttered a little scream of alarm. Mayfair just laughed, uncrossing her arms and walking all the way into the lab. "Really Patterson?"

"Sorry, I was... I was lost in thought." Patterson retrained her eyes on the screens. "Think Taylor will finally owe someone dinner?" She smirked at Taylor's standard taunt. 

"I will be very impressed if that happens." Muttered Mayfair. Sure had, after all, hand picked and evaluated every member of the team.. She was the only one to have beaten Taylor Shaw in hand to hand. And if Mayfair was being honest, she wasn't sure she could do it again. 

"So," Mayfair motioned to the screens. Patterson blinked twice before she launched into what she had figured out so far. 

"His entire body is covered in the most cryptic messages and puzzles I have ever seen. There are cryptic symbols, riddles, map pieces. To name a few. Whoever did this to him had very specific goals in mind. This information is so dense, it could take us years to uncover it all." Patterson admitted, sounded frustrated and pleased at the same time. 

"What about this scar?" Mayfair tapped the photo of John's wrist. 

"I noticed that too." Patterson came to stand beside Mayfair. Mayfair had a calculation gleam in her eyes. 

"Any idea how old it is?" Mayfair asked, Patterson made a questioning noise. 

"Umm, oh! It is hard to tell with these things but it isn't new." Patterson was taping into her tablet. 

"And the google alert?" Mayfair asked. Patterson bristled a little but shook her head. 

"Nothing yet." 

***  
Taylor was ruffling her hair with a towel, reflecting on her evaluation of John. His skills were astounding. He knew how to use every weapon she knew of and his hand to hand rivaled her own. She braided her hair and left the locker room. John was leaning against the wall waiting for her. He was freshly showered and in his original clothes. She smiled at him and he grinned back at her. They walked into the bullpen. 

"So," Patterson asked. "Do you owe someone dinner?" Taylor laughed and John scowled adorably at her. 

"Not yet." Taylor said. 

"I'm still demanding a rematch." John muttered and Taylor laughed harder. 

"All right, John." She touched his arm in what was meant to be innocent but when their skin touched a shock rocketed through her system. 

"We have a problem." Zapata called out, cause Taylor to jerk her hand away from John but Patterson didn't miss it. 

"What is it?" Taylor asked, donning her agent mentality. "Chao is dead." John felt his world tilt and his knees went weak. Patterson thankfully guided him to a chair. 

"What?" Taylor echoed John's disbelief. 

"It seems like he had a massive stroke after surgery." Zapata stated. Taylor made a face. 

"No. No way." Taylor began to pace. "I am not buying that. He was young, active, and healthy. It doesn't make any sense." 

"He was shot." Reade said, coming up behind Zapata. 

"In the shoulder, Reade. You've been shot, so have I." John felt his body tense at the mention of Taylor being shot. "The dots don't connect. Get me that hospital footage and I want a full autopsy." Her team wentnoff to do their jobs. Taylor pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. John watched her back expand in a numb fashion. Taylor turned to John, he looked like he was in shock. She knelt down in front of him.

"John?" She took his hands in hers. John's eyes found hers. 

"Taylor," he sounded numb to himself. "He was our only connection to whoever did this to me, to who I ... Who I was." The grip Taylor had on his hands was all that kept his meager little world from crumbling. 

"John, John look at me." Taylor's voice was soft. John felt his numb gaze find her fierce one. "This isn't over, John. I promise." One of her hands cupped his cheek gently. He nodded, placing a calloused hand over hers.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally an update! Don't worry dear readers, I am back, having found the threads once again. Enjoy!

Chapter 4  
"Okay, John." Her voice was soft. She slipped the handle of the gun in his hands. "This is a hand gun. We went through all of the assault rifles yesterday. Now i want to see what you can do with these." Her arm swept out over the table of multiple hand guns, with varying calibers. Taylor watched as he loaded and fired each weapon, creating perfect clusters in the head and heart. Two to the chest and one to the head, every time. 

John felt the kick of each weapon like an old friend in his arms. Even the largest one was still perfectly easy for him to aim. But it was the suppressed weapon that shook him to his core. When he pulled the trigger of the indecent sneeze of the weapon caused a memory to flood his mind. The smell of Frankincense was heavy in the hot and humid air. John felt the sweat trickling down his neck and his spine. His head was bowed as the white figure of a nun walked past him. He felt the breeze as the figure swept past him. He stood as they knelt down and raised the suppressed gun, squeezing the trigger twice. The figure jerked and fell over, a deep red soaking the habit and the titled floor around them. John watched as he approached the body and squeezed the trigger three more times. John focused on the gun as he lowered it. Revulsion rocked his system as he stared at his own hands wrapped around the gun.

"John?" Taylor's hand on his arm steadied him. "Are you alright? Did you remember something? Something else?" The image of the bleeding nun made him want to vomit and shook his head. He didn't know what Taylor would say or think about him. 

"No," he murmured. She nodded as she took the gun out of his hands, keeping one of his suddenly cold hands in hers.

"Come on," She pulled him toward the padded workout room.

***  
"There! Freeze it, Reade!" Taylor ordered watching the screen from the hospital security footage. "That doctor right there," she tapped the display. 

"What about it?" Mayfair asked. Taylor just resisted rolling her eyes. 

"He is walking away. If he were truly a doctor, he would be rushing toward Chao's room, not away." She explained. Everyone nodded their understanding. John's eyes were glued to the screen. Those eyes ... He could almost swear he knew them. 

"His face is too covered for recognition software." Patterson said, sounding put out. But Taylor's blood was racing. The chase was on.

"Have a team canvas the hospital. See if they can find anything about this man and print me a good picture." She turned to her crime board, John knew what was there but it still gave him a small thrill to see his face at the top. Taylor had been working hard with Patterson and had Chao's photo along with the tattoo that lead them to him pinned together. Zapata dropped the photo on Taylor's desk, she immediately pinned in under John's own photo. He debated telling her about his dream again but couldn't form the words. What if it was just a dream? What if it made her not trust him? He wasn't sure he could handle suspicion in her eyes like all the others. Only she and Patterson looked at him without glaring suspicion. 

"Aha!" Came Patterson's shout, causing John to jump. "I did it!" She cried.

"You found him?!" Taylor rushed to Patterson's side. The blonde looked confused. 

"What? No ... I ... I decoded another tattoo." She explained, a thrill pounded in John's veins. The team gathered around to see. 

"So one of John's tattoos jumped out at me. See? Right here?" Patterson asked, pointing to the screen. 

"Pretend that we are not you, Patterson." Mayfair crossed her arms. Taylor smiled, she felt the same way. 

"Okay, okay." Patterson fluttered about. "The tattoo behind John's ear, once decoded it starts with 399, right?" Taylor was nodding she remembered. 

"399 White Street Apartment Seven." Zapata echoed. Patterson nodded like a happy tutor. 

"Right, so see this other tattoo?" Everyone nodded. "It starts with 399 followed by a jumble of letters and emnds with a 7. Does anyone know what a Vinegere cipher is?" Patterson asked, Reade raised his hand. Zapata elbowed him.

"Put your hand down." She hissed. Everyone smiled. 

"It is a polyalphabetic substitute cipher." Reade said, rolling his eyes at Zapata. 

"Yes! Awesome!" Patterson chirped. "A Vigenere cipher is a method of encrypting alphabetic text based on the letters of a key word. And unless you have the key word, it is next to impossible to decode."

"So, what's the key word?" Reade asked. Taylor walked forward to the screen and pointed. 

"The words between the two numbers on the original tattoo." She guessed, taping the screen.

"Exactly!" Patterson stated excitedly. She quickly tapped a few keys on her pad and the words White Street Apartment appeared next to the tattoo '399/IHRTVLALVKBBHHJ/7'

"Use White Street Apartment as your key word, and suddenly, the mess of letters in between become 'Major Arthur Gibson'." Patterson looked proudly between all the members of the team. Taylor had to smile at her enthusiasm, it was refreshing to how she felt at times. 

"So, the first clue unlocks the second." Zapata said thoughtfully. 

"Crazy, right?" Patterson seemed to be getting more an more excited about the clue and puzzles of John's tattoos. Taylor tried to look at John through her peripheral vision, he hadn't said a single word since new of Chao's death. 

"Who is this Gibson guy?" Taylor decided to asked, seeing that John was deep in his own thoughts. 

"Okay, so, according to his service records, Gibson flew F-22 missions over Iraq and Afghanistan, earned a boatload of medals, including the Silver Star, and then an injury sidelined his flying career and he moved back stateside. Took a desk job in Nevada before coming to work for the Air Force in New York." Patterson rattled off the basics, Taylor skimmed through his file that was up on one of the screens. Taylor frowned to herself as if something didn't make sense. 

"Now that Chao's dead and can't help us, Gibson might know who I am, who did this to me." John deep voice said, finally breaking his silence. "We need to go talk to him." 

"DMV records have him living in Brooklyn." Patterson supplied without Taylor having to ask. Give the lady a gold star, Taylor thought. 

"Alright people, let's get moving." Taylor stated, checking her side arm and badge. 

"I'm coming with you." John stood, his eyes challenging her to say no. 

"Yes, you are." She agreed and grabbed her jacket. 

"He is?" Reade asked, doubt filling his voice. "You were dead against him going into the field yesterday." Taylor pushed the button for the elevator. She turned to Reade, eyeing him with all the authority she had. 

"I was wrong." She stated simply.

"But we still aren't sure how the tattoos work and it could be dangerous." Reade continued despite her glare.

"He should be there." Taylor said, her tone not leaving any room for argument. "Besides, it could help him trigger another memory." The elevator opened and they all piled in. 

"And we all know he can handle himself and then some." Zapata murmured. 

"Please," asked John as they stepped out of the elevator and headed for the vehicle. "I can help figure this out." He sounded so sure. Taylor waved him into the car and got in beside him. 

***  
They all sat in SUV looking at the run down blue house. The paint was fading and the adobe was visible beneath. Taylor felt a twisting in her gut as they all walked up to the house, she placed her hand on the hilt of her weapon. To some it would seem like she was just resting her hand, but everyone on her team knew it was her ready draw stance. The screen door rattled under her fist as she knocked. 

"Major Gibson?" She called out. John looked down at her hand and frowned. Every line in her body screamed tension. John's eyes darted around trying to find the source of her tension. The screen rattled under her flat palm this time. "Major Gibson! FBI!" she shouted. The door swung open and a disheveled man stood in the crack. His beard was peppered with grey and his sandy blonde hair was sticking out at odd ends. His blue eyes blazed at them. 

"What do you ...? Who sent you?" His voice held barely leashed fury. Taylor looked at the man, her instincts were screaming at her. 

"It is a long story, I'm afraid. May we come him?" She attempted to push into the door but Gibson was stronger than he appeared. 

"Hey, hey," He pushed the door closed so that there was barely a crack. "I don't know what they told you but I am not talking."

"They? Who is they/" John asked, pushing up beside Taylor. "Do you recognize me?" He asked. The Major's eyes danced over his frame but no recognition lit them.

"I haven't said a thing. Get off my property." The door slammed in their faces. 

"He didn't get that Sliver Star for his charm." Reade observed. The group turned around and headed back to the car. 

"Can we get a warrant?" Zapata asked but Taylor was already shaking her head. 

"The tattoos are not enough. No judge will buy it." Taylor said glancing over her shoulder. 

"Could I just kick the door in?" John asked and Taylor barely bit back and laugh. "It didn't look that heavy." He went on. 

"No, John. You can not just go around kicking doors in." Taylor stated, stopping. John stood in front of her, hands on his hips. "That is not how it works." The explosion caught them all off guard and the percussion blew Taylor into John's body as they all fell to the ground as the heat rushed over them. John's arms wrapped protectively around her, pulling her head in to his chest. John felt the soft ringing in his ears as Taylor pushed off of him and stood to look at the flaming house. Taylor could hear the sirens approaching, she eyes danced over her team to make sure no one was hurt. And then back to the house that was now nothing more than burning remains.

***  
"I can't let you in." The fire captain said, taking off his helmet. Taylor waved away the paramedic that was trying to take her blood pressure.

"Oh come on!" Taylor exclaimed. 

"Building is not structurally sound any more." He explained. Taylor's shoulders sagged in defeat. 

"Okay," She said, turning to look at what was left of Major Gibson's house and probably Gibson himself. "So what happened?" she asked. The captain turned around to stare at the skeletal remains of the building. 

"The whole place was wired to blow." He explained, wiping some sweat from brow. "I've never seen anything like it." She nodded, turning back to the car. 

"He blew up his house while still inside. Why?" Taylor was more talking to herself than anyone else. John smiled, she did that when she was thinking. 

"And the body?" Reade asked. The captain looked confused. 

"There isn't one." He stated simply. Taylor froze and turned to face the captain. 

"What?" She asked. "He was in there when it blew up." But some how Taylor knew. 

"I don't know what to tell you, we have searched the whole place. There is no body." The captain replaced his helmet and walked back toward the structure. 

"It was a distraction." John said and Taylor knew he was right. "Kept us busy while he slipped away."

"Not to mention destroying all of the evidence." Reade said. 

"Destroying what?" Zapata asked. "All that survived was that old wall safe." She pointed to the square melt that was now sitting on the steps close to them. Taylor's eyes looked at the hunk of metal that could have easily crushed any of them had it been blown any closer. 

"We need to get that back to our lab immediately." She ordered, spinning on the heels and headed for the driver side of the SUV. 

"How much time did he buy himself? Really?" Zapata asked. Taylor looked down at her watch. 

"We got here a little over an hour ago. So maybe two." She said climbing into the seat and calling Patterson. 

"Who is this guy?" Murmured John as he climbed into the passenger seat.

***  
The Colonel sat stiffly across from her. Taylor felt more at ease that Colonel Powers looked. Her blues were crisp and her greying hair pulled tight against her skull, giving her a harsher appearance. Something Taylor was sure she used to her advantage. But the queasy look around the Colonel's eyes gave Taylor the foot hold she needed. 

"I served with Major Gibson both in Afghanistan and Iraq, and was his commanding officer here in New York. He's a hell of a pilot." Taylor latched on to the slip. 

"Is? I thought he was injured, moved to a desk." Taylor asked leaning closer. 

"Once a pilot, always a pilot." The Colonel tried to retreat her verbal slip up but Taylor could see the building panic in her eyes. 

"So, what happened to him?" Reade asked. Taylor could almost hear the sigh of relief as the Colonel looked at Reade, away from Taylor's assessing gaze.

"Gibson's injury was psychological. He had a mission gone bad. There was collateral damage." She began to explain but it wasn't the whole truth. And Taylor knew it. 

"How many civilians died?" Zapata asked. The Colonel visibly blanched. 

"I'm afraid that's classified." She murmured. Taylor could tell that the Colonel was used to having people bow to her rank and position. She wasn't use to people who played on an even field.   
"So, a lot then?" Reade supplied. John watched the whole exchange but the memoery of the nun in a white habit was all he saw in his mind's eye. 

"Gibson was never the same. His PTSD got worse and worse until eventually, we had to ground him." The Colonel explained without really saying much to help them. 

"What exactly did he do when he got back stateside?" Taylor leaned forward and she could see the Colonel was happy to have the desk between them. 

"I'm sorry, but I can't say much more. But unfortunately, even the desk work got to be too much for him. We had no choice but to discharge him." Taylor thought it sounded too easy an explanation. 

"When was the last time you spoke?" John asked, the Colonel turned an assessing eye on him, quickly taking stock. What her final assessment was, John had no idea. But she didn't recognize him.

"A few months. After we let him go, his marriage ended. He couldn't hold down a job, he grew increasingly paranoid. I think he blamed me." She sounded almost sad. 

"So, why'd he blow up his own house this morning?" Reade pressed. The Colonel's color paled a bit.

"I can't begin to imagine." But Taylor smelled the lie. She leaned forward, slowly standing to place her hands on the desk between them. Taylor leaned over the desk and looked the Colonel directly in the eyes. 

"Look, ma'am, I'm racing to contain a potentially volatile situation not to mention lethal, so I need to know what you know." Taylor challenged. They were running out of time and she could feel it. But what the end game was, she had no idea. 

"I've told you everything I can. I wish we could have done more for him. He was a good man." Taylor knew when they had been dismissed. She sighed and turned around. They headed out to the car. John looked at Taylor as they drove back in silence. There was something on his mind, he just didn't know how to approach it.

"So, Gibson couldn't get over killing all those civilians? That one day, that... that single moment defined the rest of his life." John said, his eyes searching Taylor's features. Her eyes softened with some remembered hurt. Her glistening eyes met his as she glanced at him from the driver's seat. 

"Some things are hard to forget." She murmured softly. John wanted to ease the hurt shining in her eyes. He didnt like the shadows of old pain behind her eyes. 

"Borden says people are shaped by their past. Do you think that's true?" There was a note of desperation in his voice. Taylor wished they were not driving. This was a conversation that deserved more than her divided attention and less of an audience. 

"I wish it wasn't." She murmured, taking his hand that was closest to her and squeezing it. Whether she needed to comfort of his warm hand or if she was offering the comfort of her own, neither knew for sure.

"What if I find out who I am and I don't like it?" His voice was so soft, Taylor almost missed the sad note. She squeezed his hand harder. She had no answer for that question. Sometimes she didn't even like herself and she still had all of her memories. The shrill ring jarred Taylor out of her reverse, reminding her that she and John were not alone. 

"It's Patterson." Reade informed them. "You're on speaker." Taylor could hear the bustle of the lab in the back ground. 

"Hey, I'm just going through Gibson's files, and something's not right." Patterson sounded both intruged and troubled. Taylor had learned to pay attention to Patterson's instincts. That woman was the smartest of all of them. "Powers said they sidelined Gibson because he was suffering from PTSD. But according to his files, they promoted him." Taylor frowned. 

"They can still get promoted off the desk. Maybe they're just trying to take care of their own." Zapata sounded defensive. 

"Maybe, but they also raised his security clearance, from Secret to Top Secret and above." Patterson conceded but Taylor could feel the tickling in her mind. Patterson was on to something.

"If Gibson was suffering from PTSD they wouldn't have increased his access." Taylor said, her hand holding tightly to John's hand.

"Nope, they would've frozen him out." Reade confirmed. "He was one of their top pilots in Iraq and Afghanistan. So, what, they move him back to Nevada? Bump him up in rank? Raise his clearance? What are you thinking?" Reade asked, he could see the wheels in Taylor's head turning.

"Nellis, Nevada" Taylor said, her grip on John's hand could be called a death grip. "Is where the Air Force drone program is based. He didn't wash out. They made him a drone pilot." Taylor felt the certainty in her gut as she said the words. Gibson had been a drone pilot. 

"Okay, well, that explains Nevada. But when they moved him to New York, his clearance skyrocketed." Taylor felt a chill run through her veins. This was very bad. "There's no drone program here." Patterson stated, which sounded more like a question.

"Not one we know about." Taylor muttered and silence filled the SUV asTaylor floored the gas. 

***  
"Oh, come on. I'm gonna be late for work." The man muttered, securing his belt around his class b uniform. Standard dress for a day at work in a facility that didn't exist. 

"Daddy?" His son's voice was afraid and he felt his stomach twist as he saw why. Gibson was kneeling behind his five year old son, a gun pressed under his tiny jaw. 

"Gibson. What are you doing?" His voice trembled seeing the suppressor pushing into the soft, delicate skin of his son's jaw. He held his hands up in a disarming fashion. 

"I need you to do something for me, Alex." Gibson's voice was full of fury. Alex felt a thrill of fear run through his body. 

"Just put the gun down, okay? Please, Arthur." He was almost on his knees, keeping eye contact with his terrified child. 

"I gave them everything. I did unspeakable things for them." Gibson pulled the little boy tight against his chest, causing the child to cry out in fear. 

"Gibson, my son is innocent." He tired to reason with the mad man holding his child. 

"I killed a lot of innocent people, Alex." Gibson gritted between his teeth.

"Please, please Arthur. Just let him go." His voice was trembling in a effort to not scare his baby.

"No. This whole country abandoned me. And today, you're gonna help me teach them a lesson. All right, listen to me." Alex took a step closer. "No, you listen to me! You'll do as I say, or you'll never see your son again." Alex felt his stomach drop and all he could do was nod.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
"Call the general for me, tell him I can't make it Thursday." Powers called over her shoulder to one of her people. The meeting with those agents had shaken her up, though she would never give them the satisfaction of knowing that. She knew this thing with Gibson was going to come around and bit her in the ass some day. She just didn't think it would be so soon. She didn't pay attention to the shadow that passed over her and her car. Her phone ringing made her jump and she grabbed for it. 

"Powers." She barked into the phone. What the voice on the other end said made her blood freeze. "Wait, what? No, that's not possible, they're not... " The shadow came again and this time she looked up. Her eyes went wide the moment before the missile hit her car and there was nothing left of her, her car, or her fears but a smoking crater in the pavement. 

***  
Taylor stared in disbelief at the phone when they got the call. Her team looked at her, John was especially concerned. Her whole body had been screaming tension all day and now she looked a bit numb. 

"Colonel Powers is dead." She said, causing the whole room to go quiet. "She was killed it what looks a lot like an air to ground missile strike." John idlely wondered how she knew what a missile strike looked like. "We are going to drill into this guy's life with everything we've got. I wanna know who Gibson was talking to, what he's been spending his money on. And Patterson," she called out. The young blonde looked at her expectantly. "I want you to find out about the explosives he used on his own house."

" Of course.We have the bomb components right now and are analyzing them." She called breaking off into her lab. 

"And I wanna see inside that safe, okay? There's gotta be something in there." Taylor called after her.

"On it!" She called back and Taylor hads to smiled. That woman loved a challenge. 

"His house and Powers." Taylor muttered to her team, a sense of foreboding curling in her belly. "This is just the beginning. This guy's not going to stop. So, we need to find out who his next target is." She moved to sit down at her desk. 

"I can't help but think we pushed Gibson over the edge this morning when we knocked on his door." Reade stated, his stance telling Taylor that he wanted to speak his peace. She knew from day one that he was concerned about John and the tattoos. 

"What are you talking about?" Zapata asked, standing beside Taylor. John felt a thrill run up his spine as he watched the group. 

"That wasn't our fault." Taylor stated simply. 

"I didn't say it was." Reade was glared striaghter at John, who felt his muscles lock down, preparing for a fight. 

"Reade, enough." Taylor stated, her voice going icy. She didn't like to be questioned, not in this fashion. 

"Blindly following her tattoos is reckless." He challenged, turning on Taylor. Every now and then Reade forgot who she was and what she was capable of. Just because she was a woman and shorter than he was. 

"You think I am being reckless?" Her tone said it all, even Zapata backed up a few steps as Reade's eyes locked with hers. "I don't think you recognize just how important he is, how important he could turn out to be." 

"Don't worry, John." Zapata whispered. "This happens every now and then. Reade forgets his place and Taylor puts him back in it." There was an undeniable note of admiration in her voice as they stood watching the exchange. 

"It's a little early to make that call, don't you think?" Reade stepped closer to her, attempting to use his height to make her back down. 

"No." Her tone was still frosty but her eyes were blazing at Reade and for a moment John felt doubt roll through his system. What if.... What if he was an elaborately staged trap for her? John suddenly felt sick at the idea that he could be the cause of harm to her. "The most important thing is to find Gibson and to stop him, right?" She had gone on, obvious to his sudden turmoil.

"Right." Reade said, defeated in the arugement for now. But she could see the issue was far from over 

"So, can you join Patterson and find me a lead?" She asked, her hand resting on Reade's bicep. He heaved a great sigh and glared at John before calling to Zapata.

"Let's go." He stated. With a quick squeeze on John's arm, Zapata followed Reade into the lab.

"Thank you." Taylor called softly as they walked by her. She took a deep, calming breath before she turned to John. 

"What if he's right?" John asked, stepping up close to Taylor. He could feel the heat radiating off her body. He wanted so badly to wrap her in his arms and take comfort in her warmth. His fear for her was choking him.

"He's not." Taylor said with a sure spirit that John didn't have. 

"What if these tattoos are a trap?" He could feel the building panic threatening to overwhelm him. 

"John." Taylor took one off his hands in hers, his hands were cold. It was a reaction to stress, she was learning. 

"We don't know anything about who did this to me or why, and people are losing their lives." He insisted. "You dont know anythimng about me." He said even softer. 

"John, this is not your fault, okay?" She grabbed his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. Blue eyes clashed with leaf green. He saw the calm assurance in her soft gaze and felt it creeping in to his own sytem. "This is not your fault." She said again. He nodded and let out a breath he had been holding. Relief washed through him. She had such faith in him, something he was worried she was misplacing. 

"Shaw." Mayfair called out as she walked past them. Taylor reluctantly released his face and looked at her boss. "Come with me." Taylor nodded, motioning for John to join the others in the lab.

"Yes, ma'am." Taylor feel into step beside the Deputy Director. She followed Mayfair into their conference room to find a three star general standing there. His posture screamed authority but there was something in his eyes. Fear. Taylor decided as she critically analyzed his stiff posture and the lines of his face. 

"General, what the hell is going on? This morning a former Air Force pilot blew up his own house. Three hours later, his former CO dies in an air to ground missile attack. Please, do me the courtesy of admitting these incidents are connected." Taylor admired her Deputy Director, who didn't waste any time with pleasantries.

"They are connected." He stated, sitting down across the table from them. Taylor barely leashed her eye roll. Politics. She hated them, one reason she was a field agent and had every intention of staying that way.

"Care to elaborate?" Mayfair's voice was icy as she addressed the General across from them. She didn't like politics anymore than Taylor did but she would at least play the game. 

"It was decided the country needed a domestic UAV program that could not only surveil targets," Taylor felt a chill rush up her spine. "But in extreme circumstances... take action." Silence followed that statement. 

"You're telling me we have armed drones flying over American soil." Mayfair clarified. 

"It's in place as a last resort. We've never dispensed ordinance domestically." He sounded so sure but Taylor could feel the lies coming from his mouth. 

"Until today." Taylor questioned, the look the general gave her nearly said it all. 

"Gibson got control of one of these UAVs." He claimed. 

"How?" Taylor asked. 

"He kidnapped the son of one of our avionics specialists, forced him to retrofit a drone with an alternate control card that severed its signal with our satellite, allowing Gibson to take over remotely." The general sounded all most defeated as he let the information out in a rush. 

"And where is that child now?" Taylor asked, her tension headed for the roof. Mayfair gave her a side ways glance.

"We believe Gibson still has him." He confessed. Taylor opened her mouth but Mayfair got there first. 

"And the drone... can you recover control or locate it?" Mayfair asked, worrying over Taylor's knee jerk reaction to missing children. 

"He's frozen us out. And it was designed to evade radar detection." The general was saying but Taylor could feel her temper boiling over. "It still has another two missiles, but I've got my entire team working on it." He assured them. 

"We need to find him before he kills anyone else." Mayfair agreed. 

"You should've come clean with us as soon as we asked you about it." Taylor challenged, tension radiating out of her body. The general didn't flich externally when he looked at the leashed fury on Taylor's face.

"We had no idea.." He started to say but Taylor shot to her feet.

"No idea, what? That he'd blow up his own house? That he may steal an armed drone to target American military personal?" Her voice was steadily rising, along with her temper. 

"There were larger issues at..." He tried to say.

"Larger than what? An armed rogue drone? Ten dead people? Or a little boy who was stolen from his father?" Taylor shouted. She couldn't stand the lies and cover ups he was attempting to lay the ground for. 

"Shaw!" Mayfair's voice was harsh but Taylor didn't hear it, her fury latching on to the general. 

"We are trying..." The general tried to say again. Taylor pointed a threatening finger at him.

"If anything happens to that child..." She began but Mayfair was on her feet, pushing Taylor back. 

"Walk away." Her voice was calm and hard. Taylor wasn't listening. "My office, Shaw. Now." There was no room for doubt as Taylor stormed out of the room. Mayfair watched Taylor push through the door to her office before she sighed and turned back to the general. 

"Why is he doing this, General? His motives could help us anticipate his next target." She asked. The general pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a deep sigh. 

"I wish I knew." It was a lie and Mayfair knew it but there was nothing she had to force him to tell the truth. "What I do know is that Gibson is one of the most efficient killing machines the Air Force has ever made." Mayfair felt a very real chill run through her veins. That was the first honest statement he had said and it wasn't what she had wanted to hear. 

***  
John stood with Zapata going over the bomb components. They could easily see how it was put together but John couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that Gibson had wired his whole house to blow up. Why would anyone want to do that? Reade looked over at John and Zapata, concern coiling in his gut.

"Doesn't something feel off to you?" He asked Patterson, who was working on opening the safe. "Whoever did this to John knew about the drone program. That information's above Top Secret." It was a growing concern on his mind and he was sure he wasn't alone. The person or people who did this to John Doe had access to information that they shouldn't.

"The first tattoo helped us save lives.' Patterson stated. " Hopefully this one will too." Reade had to smile at her optimism. 

"Maybe." He murmured. "Or maybe we're about to knock over a hornets' nest." He looked back over at John.

"Gibson didn't recognized me." John started. "Chao didn't recognize me either. So far, these tattoos have sent us to people who don't seem to be connected to me at all." John could feel hopelessness building in his mind. 

"If they've got nothing to do with you, why are they on your body?" Zapata looked up at him, seeing ghosts behind his eyes.

"Penance." He stated with more question than certainty, suppressed gun shots and the image of a dead nun in his mind. Zapata looked at him with sympathy. She gripped his hand and squeezed. What ever she was about to say was lost in an excited cry from Patterson.

"Hey, come take a look at this!" Reade called them over. John squeezed Zapata's hand in thanks before they made their way over to the now open safe. 

***  
Taylor sat quietly at the table in Mayfair's office. She took calming breaths. She shouldn't have gone after the general like that but the lies falling from his lips had been too much for her. Especially now that she knew a little boy's life was on the line. She rubbed the small 'K' shaped scar on her wrist under the band of her watch. She watched as the general left, giving her another glance over his shoulder as he left. Mayfair took a deep breath and turned toward Taylor. The Deputy Director looked tired. Taylor stood as Mayfair pushed through the door.

"He's lying." She stated, sure of her impression. Mayfair let out a sigh and sat on the edge of her desk.

"I know." Mayfair conceded. "But threatening a three-star general is not going to help us." Her voice was harsher as she looked critically at Taylor. Taylor cringed back and sank back into the chair she had been in.

"Sorry." She admitted, her finger rubbing the scar again. Mayfair's eyes followed the movement and her heart softened a bit. She crossed her arms and looked at Taylor.

"How are you holding up?" Taylor looked up at Mayfair. "I know you don't do too well with missing kids." Taylor bristled a little bit.

"I'm fine." She muttered but her finger still cirlced that little 'K'. 

"Taylor, I need to know where your head is." Mayfair's voice was soft, not accusing. 

" I've been dreaming about Kurt again." She confessed. 

"Then maybe you should start talking to someone.." Taylor stood and began to pace. 

"No, I don't wanna talk anymore." Taylor said, forcing herself to stop touching that scar. "I am all talked out about Kurt."

"Listen to me. That boy's disappearance was not your fault." Mayfair pointed at Taylor. " You were six years old." Taylor knew Mayfair was right. Bordon had said something similar in their session but it didnt change the guilt she felt.

"One of my last memories of him..." She let the memory wash over her. Kurt climbing above her in the old tree of the Weller back yard. "We were climbing a tree in his backyard. And we were up pretty high. He was fearless and I wanted to be too. He was above me and stepped on my hand accidentally." She paused, touching the thick scar on the back of her neck. "I slipped and cut myself pretty badly as I fell through the branches. It left a really big scar on the back of my neck. As penance, he said, he carved a captail T in his wrist." Taylor's fingers found her own scar again. 

"Ive seen a similar scar on John's wrist." Mayfair murmured. Taylor nodded. 

"Ive seen it." Taylor said. "After he dissapeared, i carved this in my own wrsit. A constant reminder that he was out there somewhere." Taylor held out her wrist without her watch to Mayfair, who took her wrist a traced the 'K', causing goosebumps to race up her arm. "John has the same eyes and he is the right age." Taylor hadn't voice the theory floating around in her head to anyone. But she couldnt stop the words from tumbling out. 

"I know why it's me. I know why my name is on his back. I think John Doe maybe Kurt Weller." His brilliant eyes and kind face flashed through her mind. His constant worry over her safety was something he had done when they were children too. 

"You think John is Kurt Weller?" Mayfair asked and Taylor wasn't sure but she had this feeling, had it since the first time he looked into his eyes.  
"I don't know, but it has been this feeling in my gut since I saw him. I don't know why and I don't know who or even how. But someone might have sent him back to me." She said, getting more certain as she thought it out. 

"That's impossible." !Mayfair said but it wasn't in a convincing tone. 

"Why? Why is my name on his back? Why send someone random to me?" Taylor began to pace again.

"Taylor, Kurt Weller has been missing for 25 years." They sat down at the table in the corner of Mayfair's office. 

"I am aware." Taylor replied. "I can not be sure, but I don't think he is not missing anymore." Before either could say more Reade yanked open the door to Mayfair's office. 

"Hey, we got into Gibson's safe." He exclaimed, missing the looks on both of the women's faces. Taylor looked at Mayfair who only nodded. Stopping Gibson was their first priority. They both knew it. The question of John's identity would have to wait. 

***  
John watched Taylor enter the lab and was by her side instantly. She looked tired and emotionally worn out. His hand fell on her shoulder and she looked up at him. For a brief moment he saw an emotion shinning through her eyes that made his stomach do funny flips but as Reade began to talk, Taylor schooled her features and the look was gone. She briefly squeezed his hand before focusing on Reade.  
"It's an air-gapped computer.' Patterson said with certainly. 

"Sorry, what does that mean?" John asked. 

"It's a computer that's never been connected to the Internet." Zapata explained. "It makes it impossible for a third party to access or monitor it." John nodded his understanding. He had begun to learn that each member of the team had a specific strength.

"The thing is, there's not much on it but a few Word documents... super weird." Patterson pulled up the documents. Taylor frowned as she stepped closer to the screen. 

"What about this one?" She asked, taping one. 

"That one caught my eye too. Dates, times, locations. Five of them." Patterson smiled, Taylor's insincts were rarely wrong. 

"They line up with five seemingly unrelated explosive accidents. Faulty gas lines, car crashes..." Reade supplied, causing Taylor's frown to deepen. 

"Victims are all foreign nationals. All from the Middle East, all incidents occurring on U.S. soil." Zapata added, Taylor felt the puzzle pieces clicking into place in her mind. 

"Drone attacks. They've already hit targets inside America." She glanced over her shoulder at Mayfair. 

"So, the general lied to us." Mayfair confirmed. "Badly." Taylor could see the Deputy Director forming an attack plan in her head. She didn't like being lied to anymore than Taylor did. 

"Each incident has a set of initials next to it. "A.G.", Arthur Gibson, for three of them, and "I.M." for the other two." Patter explained. Before Taylor could question, the blonde genius went on. "We searched the Air Force's employment records, and we think "I.M." is another drone pilot... Major Ivan Musgrave." 

"Got an address for him?" Taylor asked, unfolding her arms to look at the picture on the screen. He was a well built looking African American. His dark eyes stared out of the screen at them but Taylor wanted to see what he had to say. 

"Of course." Patterson smiled.

"Let's move." Taylor spun and headed for the SUV, followed by the three members of her team. 

***  
They drove in silence as the team strapped on their vests and weapons. John watched Taylor as she drove, she had been strapped, as she called it, before getting into the car. He was almost relieved to discover her driving was all around frightening when she was on a mission. Even Reade looked a bit off color as she swirved through traffic to screech to a stop in front of a dark brown brick apartment complex. They didn't draw their weapons as they walked up to the second floor but John could sense that they were all on edge.

"John, wait here for us, all right?" Taylor pushed him to a stop at the top ofn the stairs. "Just until we get a read on the situation, okay?" Her voice was soft and filled with concern. He nodded and took a step down. She nodded her thanks and went to pound on the door. 

"Major Musgrave, this is the FBI." Her voice was full of authoruty. John leaned back against the wall when a movement caught his attention. He turned to see the man in the photo in a blue tee shirt and jeans, carrying a basket full of laundry. 

"Major Musgrave? Ivan Musgrave?" He asked, his deep voice drawing the attention of Taylor and her team. Musgrave looked at them and the giant white letters on the vests before throwing the basket at John. He blocked it a took off after him. 

"John!!" He heard Taylor's cry behind him as he tackled Musgrave through the open door of an apartment. 

"Hey! What are you doing?" A woman shouted as the two men tumbled past her. As Musgrave attacked him, John's instincts took over as he deflected blows and landed a few of his own. Musgrave knocked him over and John grabbed a cord, wrapping it around Musgrave's throat. They tumbled to the ground as Taylor and her team burst in.  
" John! John! Let him go!" Taylor's voice and soft hand against his arm brought him back. "Let him go." John released his hold on the wire and shoved Musgrave off of him.

"We want to question him, not kill him." Reade looked at John with a new fear in his eyes. 

"Turn over. Turn over!" Zapata pushed Musgrave over, putting cuffs on his hands before removing the wire the rest of the way. Taylor helped John to his feet as Reade grabbed Musgrave.

"We're taking you in." Zapata informed him as they turned toward the door. 

"Why? I didn't do anything wrong!" Musgrave insisted. 

"Are you alright?" Taylor asked John looked after Musgrave. All he could do was nod as they made their way outside. 

"All right, all right. Okay, all right." Musgrave said as he tried to pull his arm out of Zapata's grip. 

"What?" She asked as the Major looked down at her. 

"Fine, I got a couple of weapons up there that maybe I shouldn't have, but show me an airman who doesn't." He confessed.

"That's not what this is about." Taylor informed him as she stepped around him to look in his eyes. "Your friend Gibson's in serious trouble. So, we got some questions for you." 

"Gibson? Man, that guy hates me." He groaned, annoyance burning in his eyes "I'm the one who turned him in."

"What?" Reade asked. 

"He was about to blow the whistle on the whole.." He paused, looking at them. "You people don't have the clearance for this."

"Keep talking." Taylor ordered. John was only half listening as a man with a beard turned the corner to stare directly at him. John felt his world shift. That man, he was the one from John's memory of the shooting range.

"I want to talk to Colonel Powers, now." John heard Musgrave demand but all he could see was that man looking at him with a smirk across his breaded face. 

"Powers is dead." Taylor unformed him. 

"What? Since when?" Musgrave asked. 

"Taylor?" John's voice was soft as he tried to get her attention. 

"Wait a minute. If Gibson hates this guy..." Zapata said and Taylor felt a chill rush through her veins as a shadow passed over them. 

"We just brought him outside." Reade finished looking up. "Go! Go! Go! Get inside." He pulled Zapata and Musgrave, rushing for the door as the shadow came back. Taylor grabbed John's arm.

"No, wait, no." He pulled against her. 

"Inside, get inside. Get inside!" She cried pulling on him.

"No, no, wait, that's him! That's the man from the woods, he's standing right there..." John was frantic. There was a weird sound, a sort of electrical buzzing sound that John some how recognized as a threat.

"John! The drone!!" Taylor's panic finally broke through his stunned state. He looked down at her wide scared eyes. His own eyes drifted up to see the white flying at them. His eyes went wide as he grabbed Taylor by the waist and drove through the door way. They landed roughly, Taylor felt the breath rush out of her lungs at the impact. Stars danced at the edges of her vision and she felt John's heavy body cover hers as the ground shook beneath them. Taylor's ears began to ring as dust exploded around them. John tucked her head against his shoulder as he shielded her from the debris. He propped himself up on his elbows, his hands cupping her face.   
"Taylor?" He asked, when she nodded he got off her as the rest of the team groaned. "Zapata?" John touched her back and Zapata nodded, getting up to check on Reade. John grabbed Reade's hand that was reaching for a large piece of glass sticking out of his arm.

"Wait, wait, wait." John order. "Easy, easy, easy, easy." John puahed Reade's reaching hand away, pulling off his own belt. Reade was making noises of pain and confusion. 

"Look, you might have hit an artery, okay? If you pull the glass, you could bleed out in minutes." John explained, not knowing where the certaintity came from, he just knew it was true. 

"I hope you know what you're doing." Reade muttered as John cinched down on Reade's arm to slow the bleeding. 

"I do." John stated helping Reade to his feet.

"Come on, we haver to get out of here." Taylor was saying pulling Musgrave out of the building. John stood for a moment, staring at the crater that was were they had been standing not two minutes before hand. The street looked like a battle zone more than a city street. He glanced over to the corner where the man from his memory had stood but it was empty now. John looked at the devastation from the drone strike and felt a sick twist in his gut. Five times this had happened on American soil. 

"John!" Taylor's voice brought him back and he jogged over to the car, climbing in. 

***  
"Oh, my God. How did he get his hands on this?" Musgrave was asking in the interview room he found himself in. Reade had been whisked away to medical when they arrived safely back at their building. Musgrave looked at the still dirty agent in front of him. Her green eyes blazed with intelligence and fury.

"He kidnapped the child of an avionics specialist who helped him hack the drone." She said. "That child still missing and needs our help."

"This is terrible. It wasnt supposed to be like this." Musgrave placed his head in his hands. 

"The program wasn't last resort, was it?" Asked Mayfair "You'd already been using it." They knew the answer and Musgrave knew it. He heaved a sigh. 

"Five confirmed kills." He confessed. 

"How much collateral damage?" Taylor asked. 

"Look, you need to understand something. Drones are messy." Musgrave said, not confirming what they thought but not denying it either. 

"What, so Gibson wanted to stop it?" Mayfair asked. 

"He was one of our best pilots, but even he couldn't stomach the loss of American civilians." Musgrave swallowed thickly. Looked like he wasn't doing so well stomaching it either. 

"So he was going to blow the whistle?" Taylor pushed. 

"Yeah... yeah, he asked me to help. But," Musgrave paused but Taylor knew the rest of the story. "I turned him in. They stripped his clearance, they pulled his pension. Threatened his family. We pushed him over the edge, we destroyed his life." Taylor had suspected as much. A fury and vendetta like Gibson's was usually not for shits and giggles. On the other slide of the glass, Zapata stood next to John, whose arms were crossed tightly over his chest. He looked at the defeated face of Musgrave and couldn't stop the memory of the nun from flooding his mind. 

"So, Gibson was a good guy. He just wanted the killing to stop." John asked more than stated. Zapata looked up at him and shook her head. 

"He killed ten innocent people this morning. Good guys don't do that." She stated, looking back at Musgrave. 

"You don't think good people ever do terrible things?" John couldn't stop the question from leaving his lips. 

"I think terrible people do terrible things. And the good people stop them." She seemed so sure and John wished the world were really that simple. Black and white would make things a lot easier right now. 

"Gibson snapped. He's unpredictable now." Musgrave was more saying to himself than to Taylor. A wild look suddenly filled his eyes. "He's still got a missile left. Who's his next target?"

"I was hoping you were gonna tell me that." Taylor said, crossing her arms. Musgrave looked up at her, totally lost. 

"I don't know, the guy's vindictive. He's trying to hurt the people that hurt him." Musgrave confirmed more of what Taylor already suspected. "Powers? Me? Who is next on the list?" Musgrave began to mutter non sense things that Taylor didn't need. She spun and left Musgrave to stew in his building paranoia. Taylor spotted the general in the lobby and made a bee line for him, with Mayfair hot on her heels. 

"General, where do the drone pilots operate from?" Taylor demanded. He looked down at her and sneered. 

"That's classified." He retorted. 

"Gibson wants revenge, that's obvious. But he also hates the program and wants the public to know about it." Mayvair stepped up and stood beside Taylor. She had had enough of the games. It was time for some answers. "So, where would he hit if he wants to do the most damage?" 

"General, please." Taylor pushed, watching the wheels turn in his head. She knew the moment he had reached an answer. His face went pale as he looked at the regrouping team behind Taylor and Mayfair. 

"Here." He finally said. 

"Excuse me?" Mayfair demanded, disbelief in her voice. He focused on her. 

"The top three floors of this building. The pilots operate from here." His mind was turning again. "But this doesn't make any sense. If he wanted to bomb our facility, he would've done it by now." He sounded so sure. 

"Why wait?" Taylor asked. It didn't make sense. 

"The shift change." Mayfair said with certainty. Taylor looked up and felt a chill rush through her as the general went even more pale. 

"Okay, what are you talking about?" Reade asked fro!m behind them. 

"The drones are in the air for days at a time, but the pilots fly them in 12-hour shifts so there's an overlap." He explained. "Twice a day, every pilot is in this building." 

"He's waiting for the overlap. Maximum impact." Taylor agreed. John felt goosebumps race over his arm. 

"A well-placed strike could bring this whole building down." He looked around at all the people on the level. 

"When's the next shift change?" John asked. The general looked at him and then at his watch. 

"An hour." Taylor muttered a curse. 

"So, we're evacuating now." Reade stated. But Taylor was shaking her head. 

"If he sees the building start to empty out, he'll hit us immediately, cut his losses." She explained. It was Reade's turn to utter a curse. 

"My people think they are very close to regaining control of this drone." He supplied. 

"'Think" isn't gonna cut it!" Mayfair stated. "We got 60 minutes to find Gibson before he kills thousands of people." She turned to her hand picked team and Taylor nodded. 

"I'm on it." She said turning to her own team. "We will begin funneling as many people as we can through the basement subway connect, but there's no way we're gonna evacuate the whole building in time." 

"Tell me you've figured out a way to track this guy." Zapata looked at the approaching Patterson. 

"Well, he'd have to be somewhere pretty high up to maintain line of sight with the drone." Patterson looked a bit worried as they all looked at her. 

"Okay, so, we've narrowed his location down to somewhere up high?" Taylor asked, the scarcasm dripping from her words. They were in New York, everything was up high. 

"Well, I've been given access to the exact frequency that the drone communicates on, and traced the signal's emanation point to Brooklyn." She amended.

"Gibson's home turf." Zapata stated. 

"That's a lot of ground to cover." Reade added, looking at the map. 

"Yes, but the explosives in Gibson's house were a very specific grade of demolition manufactured exclusively for Garamond Construction sites. And guess what?" She got more excited as Taylor raised an eyebrow in silence question. "Gibson worked for them at two sites... both new high rises, both in Brooklyn." Taylor turned to her team.

"Reade, you and Tasha take the Lexus, hit one of the sites. John and I will cover the other one. Let's go." She jogged off with John hot on her tail. She didn't give anyone a chance to doubt her. She knew John had her six. She had just begun to reverse when her GPS dinging with the address. She sent a silent thanks to Patterson. That woman was amazing. Taylor hit the sirens and peeled out of the garage. 

"I lied to you this morning." John finally confessed. Taylor looked at him briefly before looking back at the road. "At the shooting range, I did remember something." He went on. 

"That's good. What was it?" She asked. Idel chat keeping her mind off the drone flying over New York airspace with one last missile. 

"Something unforgivable." John whispered. Taylor looked over at him as they slipping in and out of traffic. "What if I was a terrible person before all of this?" He asked. She reached over and grabbed his cold hand. 

"I don't think you were, John." She said, her voice so sure. "And whoever you were then... It is not who you are now." He looked up at her. Vulnerability shinning in his eyes. 

"How do you know?" He had to know. Taylor smiled and John lost his breath. She was truly beatutiful. He looked down at their hands, how could hands so delicate looking be his anchor?

"Your first instinct is to help people, John." He looked up at her as she keep glancing at hi!m. "The abused wife in Chinatown, Readre after the explosion today. Even after he blatantly doubted you. Me." He smiled shyly back at her. 

"You don't hesitate, you act. And you are doing the right thing." Her grip on his hand tightened even more. "I don't know what it is you're remembering or what the context is. But I do think you're a good person, John. These memories may only be in pieces. You don't know the whole story." The tires let out a horrible screech as they pulled into the construction site. 

"I'm heading up to the roof." Taylor stated as she strapped her vest on and checked her weapon. 

"Okay, I'll stay here in case he doubles back." Joihn said, sliding over into the driver's seat. Taylor nodded to him, grabbed the radio. 

"Stay in contact with that radio." She point to the mic underneath the console. "Let me know if you see him." John nodded and Taylor took off for the elevator. She would have preferred the stairs but there wasn't time. She rounded the corner on the top floor, her weapons raised and rapid fire rang out, the concrete beside her face shattered, cutting her cheek. She pulled back with a curse and glanced out to see Gibson running. 

"Gibson!" She shouted as she ran to the next piller. He spun and opened fire on her. She could feel the pillar shaking under the impact of the bullets. She took a deep breath and swung out of the opposite side and opened fire. Gibson dodged around another pillar and fired at her again. Taylor dove for cover just in time as more bullets went wizzing by her head. Taylor popped around to open fire and Gibson was in the elevator. With a curse she ran for the stairs. 

"John! John!" She called into the radio. John looked up as gun fire erupted above him and his heart seized in fear for Taylor. Suddenly the radio went off, causing him to jump but he couldn't make out what she was trying to say. 

"Taylor! I can't ... I can't understand you!" He called into the radio. Taylor was running down the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her.

"John! Gibson is coming at you!" She tried again but all John heard was his name and Gibson.

"Taylor, I can't... I don't understand you." John tired again. 

"John! Gibson's coming down to you now!" Taylor's voice was clear as a bell right before John spotted Gibson stepping out of the elevator. John's eyes went wide as Gibson raised the assault rifle in his hands and opened fire. John ducked under the assault and falling glass. When it stopped he sat up as Gibson dashed for his car. John made a split second decision. He turned the key and slammed the car in gear, tearing after the fleeing Gibson. 

"We're gonna lose Gibson! I'm on him!" He called into the radio as the tires screeched against the pavement. Taylor burst through the door to see the tail end of her SUV disappearing. 

"John! It's too dangerous!" She called into the radio but he didn't slow. She let out a very unladylike curse. "Reade!, Zapata! John is in pursuit of Gibson!" She called into her radio, her eyes searching for a vehicles to hot wire. 

"He what?" Came Reade's voice. 

"We got separated. He's in my SUV. Lock onto that GPS and converge on that position." She ordsered spotting an older truck that would have to do. She threw the radio into the seat and ripped open the bottom panel and dug for the two wire. 

"Do we even know if he can drive?" Reade asked. 

"Trust me. He can drive." Taylor sent a silent thanks as the engine roared to life. Taylor jumped in and gunned the engine, swirving out after them. 

John felt his heart racing as he chased Gibson. Taylor's SUV had some serious horse power and he quickly gained. John slammed into the back corner of Gibson's car, causing it to spin. John slammed on his brakes as they colliade with a pile of dirt on the out skirts of the construction site. But it wasn't fast enough. John watched as Gibson's car filipped and Taylor's SUV followed. John felt the world go weightless for a moment as the SUV flipped over a few times. 

"Penance?" His voice echoed in his own head as the SUV settled like a turtle on it's back. John saw the nun jerk and fall over. He approached the body and fired three more times into the chest. The dark red pooling around the white habit. John leaned down and rolled the nun over. A man's grizzled face met his eyes. Blood trickled down from his lips. John quickly searched the man's pocket and found an encrypted flash drive. A sense of satisfaction filled him.

Taylor pulled up to the accident right before Reade and Zapata pulled out. Gibson was just crawling out of his car, Taylor's rushed over, body slamming him in to the under side of his car as he reached for his weapon. Reade came over to take control so Taylor could go see to John. 

"John! John!" Taylor's voice was like a beacon for him to zero in on. "John!" Her face appear in the wreck of what was left of the windshield. "Are you alright? Can you move?" 

"Yes. Yes." He grunted out as he grabbed Taylor's shaking hand. 

"We have to go." She said as she headed straight for Gibson. She slammed him back into the car again. 

"Where is he?!" She shouted at Gibson. 

***  
Emit listened to all the scary sounds outside of the little room the man locked him in hours ago. Emit was hungry and scared and wanted his daddy. He heards the shouting and gun fire. He huddled into the corner and just covered his ears. It seemed like forever before he heard the jiggling of the chains the man had placed on the door to keep him from running away. The doors were yanked open and Emit tried very hard to make himself smaller. But when he looked up, it wasn't the man he saw. It was a lady. She had long black hair that was braided and hung over her should. Her vest had big bold white letters. F.B.I. her green eyes were soft and caring. Like his daddy's. She knelt down and held her hand out for him. 

"Hi Emit. My name is Taylor. You are safe now." She sounded nice. "I am going to take you home." John watched as the little boy rushed into Taylor's arms. She grunted under the impact but accepted the boy's weight. The ride down in the elevator was quiet as Taylor murmured words of comfort to the frightened child. But here eyes never left him. When they hit the ground floor, the police car had just pulled up and Alex rushed out. 

"Emit!" At the sound of his father's voice the little boy struggled and Taylor sat him down. 

"Daddy!" The little boy cried as he was scooped up into his father's embrace. Taylor crossed her arms over her own chest. 

"Are you okay?" John asked her, his hand resting lightly on her lower back. She nodded. "We got him back." John whispered. Taylor looked up at him with that unnamed emotion shinning in her eyes again. 

"We did." She said, looking away as a car pulled up to take them back to the office. But John couldn't take his eyes off of Taylor. The shadows of pain were back in her eyes and it made him hurt. 

***  
Taylor and her team sat in the conference room, waiting for word. They had gotten Gibson's computer to the Air Force, they couldn't have a drone flying armed over New York. Mayfair walked in with a file folder and set out down on the table. 

"The Eagle Two just touched down safely. Air Force is already spinning the two explosions as accidents... faulty engine and a natural gas leak." She informed the but Patterson looked a bit peeved. 

"The public has a right to know the truth." Ever the advocate for open honesty. 

"That's not our call." Mayfair said, her tone leaving no room for debate. Taylor took Patterson's hand. 

"Any more hits on the tattoo database?" She asked but Patterson shook her head. 

"Not yet." She said. 

"Wait a minute, we're not seriously gonna keep doing this, are we?" Taylor looked at Reade as he argued. "We incited a man to rampage today." Taylor couldn't stop her eyes from rolling. 

"You think he built a drone control card and didn't intend to use it?" She chllenged. "He'd been planning this. And yes, we forced him to up his timeline. But if he was able to wait until he was ready, there'd be no stopping him." 

"So, the tattoos helped." Zapata said. Reade frowned at his injured arm. 

"That's one way of looking at it." Taylor was about to continue but Mayfair clapped her hands, drawing all attention to her. 

"Okay, that's it for today." The team moved out but as Taylor stood Mayfair held up her hand to stop Taylor from leaving. "Shaw? If you think John is Kurt Weller..." 

"I want to." She said, looking out at John sitting at her desk. 

"I want to be certain." She looked down at the file on the table. Taylor felt her world tilt. "This is the case file from Kurt's abduction. I have had the old DNA sent to Patterson so she can compare it to John's. If he is Kurt Weller...."

"He has to be." Taylor murmured, holding the old photo of Kurt in her hand. The eyes were exactly them same. 

"If he is Kurt, where has he been for 25 years? Where did he learn all his skills? Why would someone erase his memory and send him back to you? There are some serious missing pieces here, Taylor." She nodded, she was aware but she was so such that John was Kurt Weller and that somehow he had come back to her. Mayfair nodded her away and Taylor quietly approached John, who was staring at his hands. 

"Hey," she greeted. John looked up at her and smiled tiredly. 

"Hey back." He said. 

"You okay?" She asked, placing her hands into his. He let out a heavy sigh. 

"I can't stop thinking about Gibson. What he did was terrible, but some part of him was just trying to help." Taylor understood. It was hard to see once good people go so bad. She moved her head so that she was looking at him. 

"He let vengeance cloud his thinking. It's one thing to want to blow the whistle. It's another thing to take lives." She said, standing up. She pulled John up with her.

"Thank you," he blurted out. Taylor raised a questioning eyebrow. "For what you said earlier... about my instincts. And for everything." He finished. Taylor took his hands again, looking up at him. 

"What happened to you was horrible, John. But some good can come of it." Taylor said as Patterson waved them over toward the lab. 

"I've been thinking about it." John said as they began to walk. Taylor made a questioning sound. "I might just be the messenger, but your name is still on my back. They could've just said "FBI." Why would they send me to you?" Taylor stopped and looked up at John. 

"I am not sure yet, John." She wasnt ready to get his hopes up, just in case she was very wrong about who he might be. 

"We got Chao's autopsy results back." And suddenly John had forgotten all about why it was Taylor's name on his back. "We found elevated levels of potassium chloride in his system." Taylor snorted. 

"What does that mean?" John asked. 

"He was poisoned. Someone went through a lot of trouble to keep him from talking to us." Taylor said. "Potassium Chloride is what allows your heart to pump. But too high of a dose will stop your heart.". 

"That doctor, the one that was walking away." John asked but Taylor shook her head. 

"The whole hospital was canvassed, no one could place him." She explained. John let out a curse of frustration. She could understand it. Every turn they took seemed like a dead end to him. "Come on, John. I will drive you home." John thanked Patterson and they left. The ride was silent until they pulled up in front of the safe house. Zapata assured John they were working on something more permanent for him, something closer to Taylor. It would be nice to have a place of his own. 

"Would you like to come in?" John asked. Taylor let out a soft laugh. She looked down at herself in her dusty and dirty clothes. 

"Maybe another time, John." He nodded and got out of the car. She heard his murmured hellos to the agents outside of the house. In truth she would have loved to join him in the safe house. But she could feel her attachment to John growing and it was dangerous. Plus she had a call to make. 

***  
John started the shower as soon as he was stripped down to his boxers. He knew he shouldn't have invited Taylor in but there was the growing connection between them that he could feel. It was a connection he was both thankful for and scared of. They were his first real, genuine feelings since crawling out of that bag. He was so wrapped up in thinking about Taylor, he never saw the shadow slinking up behind him until he felt iron hands grip his arm and drove it behind his back. The cold edge of a knife pressed against his throat. 

"Don't make a sound." The voice was a harsh whisper but John felt recognition rock through his body.

"You!" He spat. "I remember you." The man's face frowned, John could see it in the mirror. 

"That is not possible," the man murmured releasing John.


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally back after such a long break! It feels good to have the writing bug again. Enjoy!

Chapter 6

Taylor held the ringing phone to her ear. There was a part of her that hoped Sam wouldn't answer but when she heard his murmured hello, she knew she was out of luck. She cleared her throat, trying to find the words. She knew what this could mean back home, if Kurt were alive and well. But there would still be so many unanswered questions. Twenty five years was a long time to hold a grudge. And she had done just that. 

"Tay?" Sam's voice brought her back. "What's wrong? Its ..." There was a pause as he checked his watch or clock. "Early." He finally said. 

"Sam, I ..." She paused taking a calming breath. "I may have a lead on Kurt." The silence on the other line made her ears ring. 

"Tell me everything." His voice was more awake. Taylor took a deep breath and launched into as much of an explanation as she could give with in the confines of the case. 'Oh my God." Sam murmured when she finished. 

"I know." She said, feeling like a bit of the weight she had been carrying lift. "But it is not for sure, Sam. I just .... I just have this feeling I can not shake every time he looks at me. His eyes." She paused, trying to calm her shaking. "His eyes are exactly the same, Sammy." She heard Sam utter a curse. Kurt had been Sam's friend first, she had just tagged along. But Kurt had liked her more than a little. While Sam had been annoyesd that his little sister always wanted to tag along, Kurt had been more than happy to have her. He had his own little sister but she was much younger. Last Taylor had talked to her, Sarah had just finished an ugly divorce and was living back home. Their mother had died a few years ago of an aggressive cancer. Sarah had a little boy of her own now. She was only three when Kurt went missing. She didn't have any memories of her own but she had grown up with his ghost. 

"Sam, you can not tell anyone until I have the results." She insisted. 

"Do you know what this means,Taylor? Dad has been accused for 25 years of killing him. People, even you thought the worst of him. If Kurt is this guy that means... That means dad is innocent." Taylor could hear the excitement building. "You have to come back with him Taylor. Come back and see dad." She ground her teeth. 

"It isn't for sure, Samuel." She only used his full name when he pissed her off. 

"He is dying, Taylor." That statement made her pause. 

"What?" She breathed. She felt her heart squeeze, in spite of all their issues he was still her father. 

"I was trying to figure out how to tell you. I was hoping you would come back this year and we could talk..." Taylor felt a wave of guilt over whelm her. "Lung cancer. From all those damn cigars. It is bad Taylor." 

"You never said anything." She muttered softly. Sam made an annoyed sound in his throat. 

" I brought him up, you shut down Taylor." She knew it was true. 

"I .... I'm sorry." She said. "How is mom?" She finally could ask, now that Kurt may be alive. 

"She is .... Handling it. She misses you Tay. We all do." He said and Taylor felt her heart break a little bit. 

"I will come back. Even if John isn't Kurt. I will." She promised herself and she would bring John, even if he wasn't Kurt. But some how she already knew. John was Kurt Weller. She could feel it everytime he looked at her. 

"That is good, Tay. We will have the guest rooms set up when the time comes." Sam said, relief washing through his voice. 

"Good night Sammy." She said. 

"I hate it when you call me that." He muttered. "Good night, Taylor." He whispered before hanging up the phone. She sighed and stretched her tired muscles. She needed a shower to wash away this day. She decided, heading for her bathroom, dropping her dirty clothes as she went. 

***  
John reacted on instinct, grabbing the man's wrist that held the knife and pulled it away from his body. His other elbow flew into the guy's stomach. The man let out a puff of air followed by a grunt before he kicked John's knee. John collapsed and rolled, spring up to face the man. 

"Stop this!" The man hissed. "I don't want to hurt you!" Jon attacked, his goal to get the weapon. The man also reacted on instinct. 

"How did you get in here?" John demanded. 

"It is part of our training. To move undetected." The phrase 'our training' caused John to stumbled and the man landed a soild punch to John's jaw. John let out a grunt of pain as he pulled back. "I came here to help you." The man insisted. 

"I remember you." John said, pulling back but not relaxing his stance. 

"That ... That is not possible." The man said. 

"Who are you?" John asked, deflecting another punch. "Who am I?!" He demanded. The man grinned. 

"Have they found your SEAL tattoo yet?" He asked and John stumbled again, that time the man drove his fist in to John's solar plexuses. John felt his knees give out as his breath rushed out of him. 

"Who did this to me? Why did they send me to the F.B.I.? Why Taylor?" He gasped out. The man's hand appeared in John's field of vision. John accepted the hand and the man pulled him up. 

"Do you care for her?" He asked, serious. John swallowed hard. He was suddenly very afraid for her safety. The man nodded like he understood John's fear. "She was the only choice." The man said.

"What does that mean? Why her?" John asked. 

"You can not trust them." The man said. 

"What..." John started to asked before two gun shots ran out and the man's chest exploded in blossoms of red. They both looked startled before John reacted, pulling the man down and putting pressure on his gapping chest. 

"Protect ..." The man gasped out. "Her..." He gritted out as the last of his breath left his body is a rattled exhale. John let out a strangled cry of confusion and frustration as the agent's burst in. 

"Fuck," one of them murmured. "John? Are you hit?" John looked down at the blood spatter across his chest and shook his head. 

"Why did you shoot?' John demanded, looking at the agents. 

"We didn't." Was the response and John was even more confused. 

"Taylor?" He asked. 

"On her way."

***  
"How did this happen?!" Taylor's raised voice came from the downstairs. She watched as the corner removed the body of a man with two holes blown through his chest. She looked up at John, who was just pulling on a shirt and pants. She felt a blush creep up her face but quickly squashed her hormones. 

"We are not sure." Reade said. "The detail did a thorough sweep before you dropped him off and after the shots rang out. There is no sign of forced entry." Taylor uttered a curse and the two agents cringed slightly. 

"I know these guys. They are good agents." Reade defended. 

"Then how did he get in?" Taylor asked. She wasn't going to suspend them but John needed to be moved. 

"The shooter?" Taylor asked as Zapata jogged into the room. 

"Across the street on the roof. The building has been adanboned for years. No casing or evidence of a break in. Not even a damn foot print in the dust." Taylor scrubbed her face in frustration. Her hair hung loose around her shoulder, black waves of silk that held bits of blue and red. John watched her in all her glorious fury. Protect her, the man had said. As John looked at her green eyes flashing, he had every intention of doing that. After the crime scene team had photographed the blood spatter, he had been allowed to take a quick shower before she arrived. No doubt seeing blood on him would have infuriated her more. 

"And the body?" She asked. 

"Prints, dental, blood work ... Our databases are bringing up nothing." Reade informed her. Taylor cursed again. "Guy's a ghost. But we have ordered an autopsy." 

"I don't believe in ghosts." Taylor muttered but knew it was a lie as she looked at John. 

"It is like John all over again." Zapata said. Taylor had to agree. 

"How is he?" Taylor asked the paramedic who was leaving. 

"Roughed up but he doesn't need to go to the hospital." She nodded her thanks as they left. 

"So all we know is that we can not protect him." Zapata said, Taylor crossed her arms over her chest and looked at her watch. She barely bit back a groan, it was just after midnight. 

"I am taking John home with me for tonight. Tasha, see if we can get that apartment any faster and have Patterson fit it with top of the line security. In the morning. It has been a long day for all of us." Taylor rubbed her tired face. "Go home everyone. We will pick this up in the a.m. John, pack your stuff. You are coming with me."

"He's what?" Reade sounded shocked. Taylor turned to Reade with ice cold eyes. 

"Listen to me. I am in no mood to deal with your insecurities tonight. He is staying in my guest room until we can find a place that will be safer. End of discussion. John?" He slowly stood, his body beginning to ache. He jogged up the stairs to pack the small amount of stuff he had in the duffel Taylor had given him. 

"Taylor," he heard Reade begin but the rest was lost as he went upstairs. Staying with Taylor? Until his new place could be ready? He felt the boyish glee at the thought of spending more time with her. But quick on the heels of his glee was dread. What if 'they' found him and hurt her? He shoved all his things into the bag, trying to avoid looking at the blood staining the wood. John couldn't even be sure that the 'they' the man had been talking about was the F.B.I and not the people who did this to him. But Taylor had been nothing but good to him. Then again, Taylor was not just the F.B.I. and obviously others had issues with him. He walked quietly down the stairs to find Taylor standing alone one hand on her hip, the other pinching her nose. 

"Are you okay?" He asked coming to a stop in front of her. She let out a laugh that had no humor and shook her head. 

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" John's fingers brushed lover the blooming bruise on his jaw. He smiled at her and motioned for her to lead the way. His heart thundering his chest as they made their way to her condo. Whether it was oiut of fear or excitement, he couldn't say. The elevator ride was quiet and John could see sleep pulling at her, her shoulders were slumping and her body wanted sleep. They were are her door in no time and she was pushing it open before John could voice his doubts. He followed her in and was stunned by how open it was. The living room, dinning room and kitchen had no walls in between them. She had a large oak dinning table with six chairs tucked in around it. A large couch dominated what John assumed was the living room, a large fireplace underneath the TV. Huge bay windows dominated most of the outter wall space. The kitchen had a island that held a stove top and oven. The sink and cabinets on the wall opposite the TV and fire place. 

"Guest bedroom is that blue door. The one to the left is the bathroom. Towels and the like are in the closest in there." Taylor pointed to the doors. He knew the bedroom next to his was hers. Taylor pulled off her jacket and through it across a chair that was at the island. 

"Taylor?" He called after her as she made her way to her bedroom. She turned and watched as he approached her. She didn't move when his hand reach out to feel the ends of her hair. "Are you sure this is safe?" Images of the bearded man dying dancing through his mind. Taylor grabbed his hand and held it in hers. 

"It will be fine John." She sounded so sure. 

"I don't .... I couldn't... I don't want you to get hurt." He finally said. She smiled and placed one of her hands on his cheek. The warmth of her hand eased some ache inside of him. 

"Goodnight, John." She whispered and turned into her bedroom. John barely resisted the urge to pull her back into his arms and bury his face in her silky hair. 

"Good night," he whispered instead and turned into his own bedroom, softly closing the door. He wasn't sure he was going to get any sleep tonight. 

***  
The only sound in the van was the clicking of loaded magazines into ports and the calm breaths of the men. The Candymen, as they had been dubbed were headed to a heist that promised a big pay out. Green looked at Blue, his brother and smiled beneath the colorful ski mask they all wore. It had been a while since they had been stateside and it was nice to be in the Big Apple herself. Even if it was for nefarious reasons.

"We are coming up on it," called Red from the driver's seat. "Everyone ready?" The clicking of slides was Red's only answer. He threw the van into park and they all got out with practiced precision. they staked up on the door and entered.

"Get down!" Shouted Blue, firing a warning shot into the ceiling. Yellow came busting in, clocking the security guard across the jaw with the butt of his rifle.

"Uhh!" cried the security guard as he spun to the ground. People began to scream in panic as their eyes registered what was happening.

"You!" pointed Green to the manager, who held the keys in his hand to all the cases.

"Everybody on the floor!" Yelled Yellow. 

"30 seconds!" called Blue from the door.

"This is a robbery! Nobody moves, nobody gets hurt!" Red informed the sheep that had already dropped to the floor and covered their heads.

"20 seconds." Blue called out. Green saw an under cover reaching for a weapon, he made sure the guy saw the long end of his shot guns barrel. Furious eyes looked up the barrel at him.

"Don't be stupid. Stupid people die." He said softly. The under cover security guard carefully removed his hand from the piece. Yellow rushed over, pressing the barrel of his own rifle into the guys neck.

"Hands down, on the floor!" He ordered and Blue thought not for the first time that Yellow might be a bit too hyper for this line of work. "I said hands down!" Red had been busy crashing cases and grabbing jewels with Green. They had cleaned out almost the entire store of all the easily accessesable jems.

"Come on! Let's go, let's go!" Blue called, heading to hold the door open.

"That's it, let's wrap it up, wrap it up!" Green called, checking his watch. That was when Yellow's eyes landed on the center piece of the whole gala. A jeweled necklace that would make the Queen of Enland weep.

"You, up, now!" Yellow pointed to the manager.

"Hey, we're on borrowed time here." Blue called out from the door.

"This is worth it." Red's eyes had set on the same trophy.

"Open it up." Yellow demanded, shoving the manager face first at the glass.

"That wasn't part of the plan, leave it." Green ordered.

"And I said open it up!" Yellow shoved harder as the man fumbled with his keys.

"We're in the red zone." Blue informed them.

"Cops are gonna be here any second." Green shouted.

"Uhh!" Came the manager's cry of pain as Yellow struck him across the jaw once the case was open. Many of the patrons gasp and covered their heads agan. Afraid of having the temper of Yellow turned on them.

"Move! Move!" Green was shouting. Enough of this shit! He thought.

"Go!" Red yelled as Yellow grabbed the necklace.

"Come on. Come on!" Blue called from the door. None of them saw the first security guard regain consciousness. None of them saw him draw his weapon and aim. It was too late when the gunshot went off and Blue felt the bullet slice through his skin and in to his gut. He grunted in surprise and shock.

"NO!" shouted Green, not his baby brother! Blue slid down the door as pain assaulted him, he raised his own shot gun and pulled the trigger. The guards chest exploded in a shower of red due to the close range. Patrons began to shriek in panic as chunks hit the floor and the red spray settled.

"We have to go!" called Yellow as he raced for the van.

"We can't leave him!" Green said, grabbing for his brother's hand.

"The cops are almost on us, we have to go!" Red grabbed Green and began to pull.

"We can't leave him!" Green hollered as Yellow and Red tossed his ass into the van and peeled away as the mass of cop cars screeched around the corner. Blue coughed up blood as he slid further down the door and darkness closed in around him from the corners of his vision.

***  
John stood in the elevator next to Taylor. The morning had been surprisingly comfortable. He had fallen asleep despite his reservations. The sheets were soft and had the faint aroma of Taylor. The ceiling fan above him had given him a nice current and air flow that help him drift off. He had woken up before Taylor, so after a quick shower he had time to explore her condo. When he had found the coffee and maker, he had eagerly brew a batch. The smell of coffee invaded the apartment as he found eggs and bacon and potatoes. He wasn't sure where it came from but he found he liked being in the kitchen. Taylor had wandered out, sleepy eyed and trousled hair. Her extra large sleeping shirt with the collar cut away had slipped off one shoulder, exposing her pale skin and a tantalizing glimpse of swirling colors on her shoulder blade. Her cheeks were rosy from sleep and she gave him a sleepy smile before accepting a cup of coffee he had loaded with cream and sugar.

Taylor made an appreciative sound that had little to do with the coffee she swallowed and much more to do with the man standing in jeans and a loose shirt that did nothing to hide his physique. Before she could say anything else her alarm went off. She shoveled food into her mouth, chewing and swallowing as she grabbed her gear. John followed her out her door and down to the car. 

***  
Even though John would never admit it to Taylor, but he was getting use to her driving. As they rode the elevator up, going their separate ways as usual. John headed into the doctor's office for their daily chat. John caught Reade's suspicious eyes and felt anger welling up in his belly again before the door closed. 

John found himself sitting across from Dr. Borden in frustration. The good doctor was irritatingly calm, with his legs cross and that damned note pad on his lap.

"It's all right to be upset." He said in his soothing voice. Well, John assumed it would be soothing but all it was doing was grating on his nervous. It had been such a nice morning until they got to the office.

"I'm not upset." John snapped.

"A home invasion isn't..." John's eyes snapped up to bore into the doctor's eyes.

"That's not my home." John's voice was a bit harsher than the doctor deserved.

"A break-in is an intimate violation." Borden amended. "But this is a real chance for us to..." But John interrupted again.

"I've been drugged. My memory has been erased. My entire body has been tattooed without my consent." John's ire was rising again. "A break-in at my safe house is the least intimate of my violations." Borden at least looked ashamed before he schooled his features.

"And feelings of anger, feelings of resentment, are all completely natural." Borden found his words again. "Do you feel safe, John?" 

"I can handle myself." John said, his jaw was aching from a punch he took last night. Borden snorted in laughter.

" I can see that." He admitted. "But it's not what I asked. Do you trust the FBI to keep you safe?" John felt his stomach drop as the memory of the man whispering a certain phrase right before his chest blossomed with red, splattering John. John nearly flinched at the memory of the hot blood striking him. But Borden was looking for an answer, so John took a deep breath to answer but it would be a lie.


End file.
